


Liar

by PeakyFookinBlinders (Sherlocked729)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018)
Genre: A lot of talkng about sex, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Roger, Consensual Sex as well, Drinking, Eating Disorder, Established Relationship, Gaslighting, Guys Protecting Guys From Other Guys, Hurt/Comfort, I swear this will have a happy ending, M/M, Maylor - Freeform, Maylor here and there and throughout, Mental Abuse, Minor Violence, Overdose, Period-Typical Homophobia, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Violence, Will add more tags as it goes on, belt beating, self-destructive thoughts and actions, takes place around 1977 or perhaps a bit later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-11-25 22:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 53,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18172532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlocked729/pseuds/PeakyFookinBlinders
Summary: Roger has been with many women, but after doing some spontaneous sexual exploration and discovering he also likes men, he happens across a boyfriend. The others see right through him, but Roger believes this is love. Brian and the others feel helpless as they watch the drummer deteriorate before their eyes. Can they save Roger before it's too late? Better yet, can they save Roger from himself before it's too late?





	1. what is love?

**Author's Note:**

> I know it has only been 24 hours since I finished my last Bo Rap fanfic but I simply couldn't help myself, haha. 
> 
> On a serious note, this fic contains rape, mental and physical abuse, self harm, and future suicide attempts. If these are triggering for you, please either read when you feel safe, or skip this fic altogether. Of course I love comments but please don't read if you don't feel like you're in a good place because I care about you lovely Queenies out there! 
> 
> Also, this is a work of pure fanfic and based not on the actual members of Queen, but the characters of the movie Bohemian Rhapsody. It is not the intention of this writer to offend or imply that any of these dark elements have happened to any of the members of the real band. 
> 
> If you're okay with all of this, then please read on, comment, and subscribe! If you're just going to criticize it, however, please fly away and don't bother commenting at all.

**.   .   .**

“What is that, Rog?”

The drummer pulled down his sleeve and looked away, sighing before he forced himself to look back at Brian. “Nothing.”

“Yeah, that’s why you pulled your sleeve down to hide it,” the guitarist remarked a bit angrily but his eyes were full of concern.

Freddie and John both looked at each other apprehensively before looking back to Roger. This was not the first time their friend had come home with bruises on his arms and a broken lip, and worse yet, they knew it wouldn’t be the last. This had become a terrible ritual as they were forced to watch their best mate and drummer of Queen slowly start to deteriorate before them.

“What happened, Roger?” John tried asking now gently, searching the blonde’s broken eyes.

Roger shook his head. “Nothing! I got into a bar fight is all!” He started into the bathroom and was about to slam the door behind when Brian slipped in quickly and locked it behind him so the two men were forced to look at each other.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Bri,” Roger groaned.

The guitarist grabbed a washcloth and wet it.  “Sit,” he ordered quietly. When his friend did so, he continued to talk, gently dabbing at Roger’s cut lip. “So your boyfriend wouldn’t have happened to be at this bar, would he?”

“He has a name. It’s David and you know it, so call him by his name,” Roger growled.

Brian sighed and shook his head. He hated that this had become their routine for the past three months now. “I’m sorry, Rog, but that abusive cunt doesn’t deserve to be called by his name.”

The drummer swallowed hard, torn between his love for his boyfriend and the love he had for Brian. “D-Don’t call him that… please.”

Brian placed a butterfly stitch bandage on Roger’s lip to help take care of the rest of the bleeding and then knelt down in front of his friend, placing his hands gently on Roger’s knees; it didn’t go unnoticed by him when he saw Roger cringe a little.

“Roger, this can’t keep going on. What he’s been doing to you –"

“Shut up, Bri. He loves me,” Roger defended.

Sadness touched Brian’s eyes as he automatically shook his head in disagreement, still looking at Roger as he tried to meet his eyes. “No. This isn’t love. This is… torture. This is abuse. He’s abusing you, Rog! He’s gas lighting you to make you believe that this is all fine when it’s not.”

The drummer stood up now and ran a hand through his hair before he looked at himself in the mirror, feeling sick at the sight of what he saw. It wasn’t even in the bruises that were making him feel ill either; it was all the fat that he believed he had on him.

_Fuck, David was right; he was so ugly. So heavy._

He tore his eyes away from the mirror now before he went to unlock the bathroom door again when Brian stepped in front of him.

The guitarist wanted nothing more than to hug him, hold him, and never let him go back to David’s flat, but he knew too well that it was more than likely that Roger had bruises covering his entire body so he restrained himself.

“What?” Roger demanded.

“Stay for breakfast,” Brian practically begged. “Stay so I can get some food in you and we can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk! I’m not hungry!”

By Roger’s anger, Brian could tell it had been a while since his friend had actually eaten anything substantial. That fucking tosser had brainwashed Roger and it killed Brian to watch him wasting away like this and have his friend still defend him.

“When was the last time you’ve eaten anything?” Brian asked, searching his eyes.

Roger tried to think back but his mind was foggy and he felt numb. He shook his head defiantly. “It doesn’t matter! I’m fine. I’m still standing, aren’t I?”

“Barely,” Brian whispered. “Please, just eat with us and then you can leave, okay?” He had to ignore every part of him that screamed at the guitarist to force Roger to stay here forever.

Roger tongued his cheek irately before finally giving in. “Fine, but only until breakfast is over. David wants me back in time for lunch.”

“Why? So he can stop you from eating that too?” Brian didn’t mean for his hatred for David to be that thick in his voice but he couldn’t stop himself in time.

“Hey, watch it,” Roger warned coldly, narrowing his eyes at his friend. David got him so twisted up inside that he knew that he’d probably hit any of the band members without a second thought these days.

“Sorry,” Brian apologized even though he didn’t feel sorry at all. “Come on, go out to the kitchen.” He opened the door for Roger and let him go out first as he followed him.

When they arrived in the kitchen, Freddie and John were already drinking their coffees but looked up. Roger poured himself a cup and sat down at the table, wrapping his slender fingers around the mug to heat up his cold body.

“You look absolutely dreadful, darling,” Freddie spoke in concern.

“Fred,” Brian spoke before he shook his head at the singer to not nag Roger. It was hard enough getting the drummer to stay; he didn’t want him to up and leave. The moments where they could all sit down together was gradually becoming less and less, and it scared Brian.

Roger ignored Freddie and sipped his coffee before he lit a cigarette and took a drag from it. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had slept last night but he felt like he was having less and less energy every day as his diet decreased.

“How are you, Roger?” John asked almost fearfully, looking at the drummer.

Brian decided to make cheese on toast for everyone, knowing that Roger had a difficult time passing it up as long as he had known him.

Roger took another drag before he exhaled through his nose. “Yeah, I-I’m great, and David’s great too, in case you were wondering.”

“Honestly, I don’t give a shit about David,” John said sternly. “I wanted to know how _you_ are.”

Roger shook his head in frustration. It obviously upset him that no one cared how the man Roger loved was. “Fine. Can I leave now?”

“No,” Brian placed his plate in front of him of two pieces of toast with cheese. “Eat.”

The other men quietly ate theirs as well but mostly focused on Roger, watching him pick at it. He broke off small pieces of it until the whole plate was filled with small chunks of toast and cheese and then watched as he nibbled at them carefully.

Roger’s eating habits disturbed Brian. He had watched the drummer eat massive amounts of food and drink without regret and with abandon before he had met David, and now he thought twice about eating fish and chips with them, going to the loo straight after to get rid of it if he did happen to eat it. The only thing that hadn’t changed were his drinking habits. In fact, they had seemed to get worse. Instead of going out for a couple pints on the weekend, Brian had talked to him during the week face to face and could smell alcohol more than once on Roger’s breath.

Roger didn’t look like a walking skeleton yet, but Brian figured it was only time until he would.

He looked up after eating about half of the broken up pieces, despising himself for feeling guilty about eating so much, so much _fat._ At least he had David to help keep him on track. He finished his coffee and then stood up.

“Bye, Brian,” Roger said icily before he started towards the door, pretending that he wasn’t dizzy or lightheaded.

“Wait,” John stood up quickly and hurried over to Roger who reluctantly turned around to face him. The younger man suddenly put his arms around him in a hug.

“Ow!” Roger suddenly hissed in pain as he pushed John away hard, taking a few steps back. “What the hell, John?”

The bassist looked at his friend with his mouth open. “I-I’m sorry… I just… I –"

Brian came over now and put himself between John and Roger, standing in front of John protectively. He gave Roger a hard look. “He just forgot, Rog. Don’t get bent out of shape about it. You should be thanking Deaky; it’s a reminder to you what a wanker this David actually is!”

Roger scoffed now, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fuck you, Brian! You’re the wanker, not him. Some friends you are!”

Brian sighed and calmed himself down. “We _are_ your friends, Roger. We care about you, which is why this is so difficult for us to watch you going through this. You’ve changed, and it hurts us to be able to see it physically… we’re here for you, whether you like it or not. Please reconsider leaving him, Rog. He’s hurting you, and maybe it’s only going to get worse until it’s… it’s too late.”

Roger’s eyebrows knitted before he shook his head, laughing humorlessly. “Unbelievable. There’s no need to get all dramatic, Bri. Really. He loves me, and I’m sorry that you don’t know what that feeling actually does feel like, but you need to leave us alone. I mean it. Leave _me_ alone.”

His words burned Brian as if Roger had personally taken his lighter and burned his words into the guitarist’s chest himself. “I may not have ever fallen in love yet, Roger, but… I know that love isn’t this,” he motioned to Roger. “You don’t hurt the person you love, do you?”

It was a rhetorical question but Roger looked like Brian had grown a second head out of his shoulder. The blonde shook his head again before he finally turned around to leave, slamming the front door hard behind him.

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration before he turned around and looked at John, concern filling his eyes again. “You all right, Deaky?”

The bassist was still looking a bit upset but he nodded. “Y-Yeah, fine.”

“I have a marvelous plan to get rid of this David character,” Freddie suddenly announced.

John and Brian both looked around at the singer with interest.

“Oh yeah? And what would that be, Fred?” Brian asked him.

Freddie shrugged. “We kill him, dump his body in the Thames, and boom! We’ll have Roger back with us again! Problem solved.” He looked over at them, smirking playfully to let them know he wasn’t actually serious.

This got a weak chuckle out of the other two musicians now, which of course had been Freddie’s goal in the first place, but Brian wished that they could do just that. It felt like it was the only solution to help Roger.

The breaking of the tension only lasted a few moments though before it passed and they all felt an uneasiness that didn’t go away.

“I’m going to go work on some songs, I think,” Freddie announced, going off towards the way of his piano.

Brian rubbed the back of his neck. “Y-Yeah, me too.” He started walking in the direction of his room.

John rubbed his eyes roughly and took a shaky breath. “I’m going back to bed,” he said to no one in particular.

 

**……… … ……….. … …………..**

Roger arrived back at David’s flat about twenty-five minutes later by cab and used his key to enter it, knowing that he always locked it, even if only one of them were home or both of them were home. He trudged upstairs, out of breath completely by the time he got to the top, having to stand against the wall to catch it again.

David came out and looked at him carefully. “You wouldn’t be huffin’ and puffin’ so much if you weren’t so out of shape, Roger. Don’t worry, this is why we’re taking care of that problem, isn’t it?”

The drummer nodded and gave him a weak smile before he entered the flat itself and ran a hand through his hair.

“Roger, look at me,” David demanded now, an edge to his voice.

The other man tensed now and turned around obediently to look at his boyfriend who was a good few inches taller than him and trounced him in muscle.

David strolled over towards him before he traced the bandage on Roger’s lip slowly, his eyes cold and calculating. “Who put that on you?”

Roger cursed himself internally for letting Brian put it on him. He shrugged and shook his head before he decided to try to change the subject. “What do you want for lunch today? I can’t cook much, but I mean I think I can –"

“Roger,” David’s voice grew impatient. “I asked you a question.”

The drummer still had his back to him. “Umm… B-Brian. He put it on.” He said simply, making sure he didn’t add anything else that he actually wanted to say, things he would’ve told Brian. He had to keep his answers short and sweet; he learned that from very early on.

“Is that so?” Roger nodded and soon felt David’s breath on his neck. He suddenly felt himself be thrown forward, hitting his head on the cabinet hard in front of him. He felt a wave of dizziness sweep through him and he slid down to the floor, sitting his back against the bottom cabinets as he now sat on the floor, holding his head.

David knelt down in front of him now and gently took Roger’s head into his hands, examining him before he deemed him okay and looked at the drummer. “I’m sorry, doll, but no one else is allowed to touch you except for me. No one loves you like I love you, and you know it.”

Roger looked at him, tears in his eyes as he nodded in agreement. He swallowed hard and looked down at his hands.

“Come on, lover. I’d like a little afternoon delight now,” David said matter-of-factly.

The drummer tensed but stood up as he followed David into the bedroom. He felt himself growing fearful suddenly, every part of his body screaming that something wasn’t right at the moment. He looked at David.

“Umm… I-I was actually thinking maybe I’d do some grocery shopping for us, you know?”

David took his shirt off before he started to undo his pants. “No, get on the bed, Roger.” No room for argument.

Roger shifted his weight, still sore from last night when they had had sex. He still felt the bruises on his hips and thighs. He knew that he shouldn’t defy his own boyfriend but what he really wanted to do was sleep. If he could sneak off for an hour, maybe he could find a coffee shop to hide in to sleep.

“I-I think I saw that we were out of milk this morning when I made the tea. I don’t think we have anything for dinner either, come to think of it. I really should –"

“What you should _do_ is take your clothes off and come to bed, before I get really mad at you, Roger,” David warned coldly.

Roger eyed the belt in David’s hands now and took a shaky breath. He slowly took off his shirt, trying not to visibly moan out in pain from the marks and bruises on his pale body. He bit his lip but cringed, remembering the bandage again.

“Please, David. I don’t really feel up to another round, yeah? Let’s just… take a nap or something.”

He suddenly felt the sharp pain of metal on his skin and heard the sickening slap across his shoulder. He let out a loud cry of pain, feeling tears in his eyes now.

“Don’t make me do it again, Roger. You know how much I dislike hurting you like this, but you know you do it to yourself.”

The drummer nodded in understanding before he unbuckled his pants and let them drop, along with his underwear and then got on the lower part of the bed, lifting his lower half up so the two of them were aligned as David stood behind him. He felt cold hands on his waist, and shivered as he felt cold metal against his skin again; he had the belt in his hand still.

 _Fuck._ He knew what was to come, because the last time they had done this, it had taken Roger months to fully heal from it. He was being punished.

But this was love, right? Sometimes lovers had quarrels and did kinky stuff in the bedroom. That had to be this right now. David wouldn’t do anything to purposely hurt him.

He felt David enter him quickly and gasped, not having had any warning to prepare himself for the intrusion in his body. He tensed up, but then felt the belt kiss his skin again sharply, feeling the buckle imbed in his back. His arms dropped at the pain.

“No tensing, sweetheart… now come on, arms back up. You know how this works by now, love.”

Roger let out a shaky sigh, forcing himself back put his arms back up to balance his body again. He took a deep breath, willing his body to relax again. He then felt David start to fuck him hard, scratching his back with his free hand.

“Mmm… that’s my good boy… take it! Take it like the slut you are, Roger…” David moaned loudly.

Roger cringed and cried out in pain as he felt the belt hit his back once again. His arms and knees were shaky as they tried to stay upright. He could feel something warm and wet running down his back and knew what it was, but this seemed to get David off, so it couldn’t be that bad, right?

Once it was all over, the younger man collapsed on the bed, pulling his body into himself carefully, not letting David see the tears that had fallen from the pain. He felt a towel be thrown on his body half-hazardly.

“Clean yourself up. You look disgusting.” David walked out of the room, leaving Roger alone finally.

No, not ‘finally.’  This was normal. They were in love. They were boyfriends. They made love. They made each other happy. David tried to better Roger to further their relationship. He tried to help Roger get into shape again. This was normal.

_Right?_


	2. safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're new to my fics, I don't mind cranking out chapter after chapter in less than 24 hours, as you see. I hope that's okay with ya'll.

**.    .    .**

  
Roger lit a cigarette as he sat in the bathtub the next morning, cringing with every move he made. He took a long drag from it, as if willing it to help somehow heal his aching body.

_He had done this to himself._

Not literally, obviously, but he had fallen in love with someone who hurt him, made him feel amazing one minute only to shoot out both his knees the next. As he had this rare moment to himself, though, he had the time to realize how much he actually missed his friends. He missed playing with them, and couldn’t remember the last time they had actually had a chance to practice or do a gig somewhere.

_God, it had to be months ago._

Roger needed to somehow get away from David to do that, though. That would be his next difficult task. He heard knocking now and almost dropped his cigarette in the water in his panic.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath as he dropped ashes on his chest. “I’ll be right out!” he yelled out to David.

“Good, I’d like to talk to you once you’re dressed, Roger.” The footsteps moved away from the door.

_Fuck, it was fucking stupid of him to let Brian fix up his broken lip. If he had never done that, maybe David wouldn’t have been so rough with him last night._

He stood up and let the drain out before drying himself out and walked out to the bedroom a bit timidly, half limping as pain still spread throughout the lower part of his body. He groaned as he pulled on the loosest pair of bell bottoms he owned before he put on a shirt, limping out to the living room where David was sitting, holding a glass of wine.

_Christ what time was it? Was it even noon yet?_

“Roger, please sit down.” The request was more of a demand than anything.

The drummer cringed as he shifted his way, shaking his head. “N-No, thanks. I’d rather stand.”

“ _Sit_ ,” David ordered, his tone sending chills down Roger’s spine. He slowly sat down, trying to lean his body towards the side that hurt the least but still wasn’t comfortable.

“Good,” the other man nodded, as if the blonde were a dog, and not his boyfriend. “I’m sorry about last night but you know why I did it, don’t you, Roger?”

The drummer nodded before he anxiously scratched his temple. “Yeah, I do.”

“Of course you do. I do this to help you, Roger, really I do. You’ve become so dependent on others that you don’t know how to act the first time you get a cut. You need to learn independence, that’s all. You can’t trust your friends. They don’t have your best interest at heart. They just want to hold you back from becoming the person you’re meant to be.”

Roger took this in, swallowing heart as conflict ached in his chest mercilessly. He still wanted to talk to Brian, and the others. He still missed them.

_You’re weak. See? David’s right! You really can’t do anything without them._

He nodded at David’s statement, feeling like it was starting to make sense. He looked down at his hands.

“Look at me,” the older man ordered. When Roger snapped his head up, David smiled thinly. “We need milk for tea. Do you think you can manage to get some for us by yourself? Or do you need me to go with you?”

Roger felt like throwing up. He had been the one to offer to go last night, and now David was making it seem like he hadn’t even thought about it.

“I-I can go alone,” the drummer nodded, trying not to seem too eager about it. “Umm… I-I need to pick up some things from the flat on the way back.”

David’s eyes narrowed, growing dangerous and suspicious. “Whatever you need, I’m sure I have it here, Roger. You no longer need to be dependent on those assholes.”

“I-It’s my clothes, a-and my textbooks,” Roger spoke bravely. He continued to look at David in the eye, never breaking contact as much as he wanted to.

The other man sighed, suddenly looking very bored. “If you must, but I want you home by lunch again. I just can’t keep my hands off of you.”

 _Oh god, he was going to have sex with him again._ Wait, why was he afraid of that? That’s what lovers did. He should want to be fucked by his boyfriend.

“O-Okay.” Roger carefully stood up, trying to hide the pain he was feeling and walked over to grab his leather jacket and threw it around his body, secretly cringing in pain before he finally left the flat.

He felt his heart hammering away in his chest. He had at least three hours before lunch but of course he knew that David didn’t expect him to take that long. He also didn’t want to drop by unexpectedly at the flat so he achingly walked to the nearest phone booth, about seven minutes from David’s place and dialed the number for the band’s flat.

He felt an odd relief at hearing the dial tone as it rang that he felt tears pierce his eyes and he had to lean against the booth to stop himself from completely crumbling.

“Hello?” _Brian’s voice._

Roger took a shaky breath and roughly wiped away his tears, his legs getting weaker by the second until he suddenly slid down, sitting on the floor of the phone booth. “B-Brian…?” he asked weakly.

“Roger?” The tone was filled with alarm. He rarely called the flat so Brian probably figured the drummer was in trouble. “A-Are you okay, Rog? What happened?”

Roger suddenly let out a small sob accidentally, hating how pitiful and weak he was feeling right now. David was fucking right about him. He was pathetic.

“Roger? Where are you? I’ll come pick you up,” his voice was soft and comforting now but the worry was still there.

The other man was in so much pain that the thought of going back to David just to have him reinjure him all over again terrified him. He let out another sob until he felt panic spread throughout his chest, the air going out of his lungs.

“Roger, listen to me, mate. You’re hyperventilating, and you need to try and calm down to breathe. I need you to talk to me so inhale slowly through your nose, and then exhale through your mouth, okay?”

The drummer closed his eyes, trying to focus on Brian’s words before he started to do as he was told. He let out another sob, dizziness taking over as he tried to focus on breathing normally.

“Good, you’re doing really good right now, Rog,” Brian’s voice cooed into the phone. “Keep doing that, all right? Now tell me where you are, do you know?”

“Y-Yes,” Roger stammered, his voice shaky. He did the breathing exercise again until he felt oxygen find his lungs again. “I-I’m across from the Tesco’s b-by… by D-David’s flat.”

“Okay, okay. I’m on my way. Just stay there, Roger. Stay put, okay?”

“A-All right. I’m s-sorry, Bri.”

There was a long moment of silence, making Roger believe that the guitarist had hung up, but then he heard his friend let out a shaky breath himself. “It’s fine, Roger. You’re okay. I’m on my way right now.”

The two men hung up and suddenly a surge of rage shot through Roger.

_Fucking weak piece of shit. You can’t even go to the store to get milk. David was completely right about you and you deserve everything he does to you._

Roger clenched his one hand into a fist before he punched the inside of the booth where the glass was once, twice, and then three times hard until blood stained it now, running down his hand. He let out a loud yell of frustration, running his hands through his hair in distress.

He didn’t even know how long it had been when Brian showed up; he had fallen asleep in the phone booth with the door closed and heard pounding on the door. He stood up and opened it to see Brian standing before him, his eyes looking all over Roger’s covered body but obviously not finding anything physically wrong with him except for his hand.

“Come on, Rog. Let’s go home.”

 _Home._ The word was so foreign to him. He hadn’t been home properly for at least three months. It had been David’s request that Roger move in with him straight away as soon as they hooked up.

The drummer nodded obediently and slowly followed Brian to his van before he carefully got into the passenger seat. Brian got into the driver seat and glanced over, watching as Roger leaned a certain way, adjusting his body before he got a sick feeling in his stomach.

He glanced over at his friend as they rode towards the flat together. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asked delicately.

Roger knew he had a choice with Brian. He knew his friend wouldn’t push him like David did. He shook his head.

Brian bit his lip nervously, thinking the worst as he became quiet again. When they arrived at the flat, Roger ignored John and Freddie’s worried looks as he remained standing, feeling awkward. He hadn’t slept here for three months. It was probably too much to think that he still had a room here, and anyway, he had slept in Brian’s room.

With how badly Roger had treated all of them, he wouldn’t put it past them to not want him around.

“Would you like some tea, Rog? I was just about to make some for all of us,” Freddie offered.

The drummer nodded, afraid to meet any of their eyes, especially Brian’s. He swallowed hard, feeling terrified and in so much pain.

Brian watched him. This wasn’t the Roger he knew; Roger was never quiet like this. Roger’s silence was unsettling. “You can sit down, if you like?”

Roger shook his head automatically before he took the cup of tea from Freddie as he came over with the tray. He watched as John took his but Brian didn’t move.

“Roger? Do you mind if we talk alone for a few minutes?” Brian asked gently, searching Roger’s eyes with his own warm ones.

The blonde shook his head to tell him that he didn’t mind, and then felt Brian’s hand lightly touch the middle of his back as he guided him to the bathroom and watched him close the door. Roger tried not to flinch away from the guitarist’s touch but the man had unintentionally touched a particularly deep bruise on his back and tried to nonchalantly move out of the way.

Roger stood in front of him, his entire body a ball of nerves, wishing he could sit down and not be so goddamn awkward.

Brian walked a bit closer to him and casually folded his arms across his chest simply because he didn’t know what else to do with them. “Talk to me, Rog,” he pleaded softly. “Please. This isn’t like you at all and you sounded… so scared on the phone. What happened?”

Roger swallowed hard and watched as Brian grabbed a wet washcloth and started to wash the blood off his friend’s knuckles.

“I… I don’t want to talk about it,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he still looked down, watching Brian work.

“I know you don’t,” the guitarist nodded understandingly. “But I need you to.”

The drummer shrugged now. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about… you start with why you’re limping?”

Roger felt the panic burn in his chest but he forced himself to calm down quickly. He felt Brian start to bandage up his hand with gauze to give his open cuts some protection as they healed after applying antiseptic cream to each of his knuckles.

“Last night, we… David and I, umm… had sex. That’s all.”

Brian tried to meet Roger’s eyes. “Did you enjoy it?”

The question suddenly made Roger on edge. “Stop taking the piss, Brian. I know you’re enjoying all of this! Seeing me like this, I get what I deserve, right?”

The outburst made Brian tense up and he shook his head. “No, Roger. You don’t deserve any of it. I didn’t mean it like it sounded… I was genuinely asking a question, that’s all. I’m sorry it came out wrong.”

Roger felt so foolish. He felt like he wasn’t even on the same emotional wavelength as Brian anymore. The guitarist felt like a stranger again. “S-Sorry.”

Brian waved off the apology as if to say it was nothing and he didn’t need to be sorry. “I’m serious, though, Roger. Did you enjoy the sex?”

The question made the drummer think. He started to nod as an instinctive reaction with David, but then stopped himself. He shook his head slowly, finally meeting Brian’s eyes.

“N-No. I… I didn’t. I… didn’t even want….” He trailed off, his mind racing as he realized he needed to lie quickly before going any further but it was too late.

Brian’s body tensed and he searched his friend’s eyes almost fearfully. “Did he… did he rape you, Roger?” He asked gently, quietly.

The drummer bit his lip, ignoring the butterfly stitch completely as his skin broke open. “He… he’s done it once before, and… it wasn’t that bad. I mean, he loves me, Bri. We just… had sex. That’s all.”

Brian’s eyes widened. “He’s raped you before…? Oh god…” the older man ran a hand through his hair and he felt tears piercing his eyes but pushed them back for Roger’s sake.

“No, I didn’t say he raped me, Bri. Why do you keep saying that?”

The other man looked at him. “You just told me that you didn’t even want it… but still… anyway, regardless of what you wanted to do. That’s rape, Roger.”

He shook his head but inside he was feeling all kinds of confused and messed up. He hated that he felt hot tears running down his face again as he thought about last night. Brian placed his hands on Roger’s shoulders comfortingly but the drummer automatically stumbled back into the sink, crying out in pain.

Brian put his hands up now. “Shit, I’m sorry… what… what did I touch? I’m so sorry, Roger. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise.”

Roger sucked in a breath to collect himself again and nodded knowingly. He swallowed hard. “S-Sorry… I’m s-sorry…”

Brian shook his head. “You have no reason to be sorry, Roger… but… can I see?”

“What?”

“I just want to see your shoulders. I want to make sure that nothing’s infected. I promise I won’t touch you again,” Brian assured him.

The blonde thought about this, knowing what Brian’s reaction would be once he saw everything and Roger wasn’t looking forward to that. He looked over at the clock; one more hour and he’d have to be back home. He swallowed hard before he nodded and slowly took off his jacket, revealing his bruised arms and the fresh, angry red welts on his shoulder and back.

He took off his wife beater to give Brian a better look, curious to know if any of his injuries actually were infected. He heard the guitarist gasp in surprise.

“Jesus Christ…” he said shakily, his eyes casting over every dark bruise and red sore. He moved closer to Roger and his eyes widened before he felt himself growing angry. “T-These are belt marks. Did he hit you with a belt?”

Roger nodded and looked over at Brian. “B-But it wasn’t his fault, Bri! It was m-mine because I-I let you bandage me up yesterday! I shouldn’t have done that… but that was on me!” He knew he was sounding panicked.

The taller man ran his hands through his hair before he took several deep breaths to keep himself calm and resist going over to David’s place to beat the shit out of _him_. He ran his hand over his face before he looked Roger up and down.

“That’s why you can’t sit down… it hurts too much,” Brian said more to himself than to Roger in realization. “A-Are you bleeding or anything?”

Roger bit his lip again, thinking back to this morning when he had taken a bath. There had been a little blood in the water.

“A-A little, yeah.”

Brian swallowed hard. “W-We need to take you to hospital, Rog.”

“What? No… why?”

“Because if you’re bleeding, then it could be serious. It sounds like a tear and you should probably get some medication for it or… surgery, at the worst. I’d just feel better if you got looked at.”

“But... it’s happened to me before and I was fine!” Roger argued weakly.

“If this has happened to you before, then it’s all the more reason to get looked at by someone. Please. Do this for my peace of mind, at least, Roger. Come with me to hospital.”

Roger knew he really didn’t have an actual choice right now and Brian was just trying to make it seem like he did. If David ever found out about any of this, who knew how he’d be punished next time. It could be ten times worse.

“Fine,” Roger shrugged reluctantly.

“Okay, stay right here. I want Fred and John to take a look at your injuries real quick before we head off.”

“Oi, what the hell am I? A sideshow? They don’t need to see anything!” Roger sighed, feeling angry and defiant.

Brian was about to place his hands on Roger’s arms again but stopped himself in time. He looked at Roger softly. “You’re not a sideshow, Roger. I don’t think that at all. I just think it’s important they take a look at you, as friends. I just want a second opinion to make sure I’m not completely overreacting here.”

Roger shook his head in disbelief. “You’re kidding me! John’s an electrical engineer and Freddie’s in design; you really think they’re going to know anything medical?”

Brian knew that his friend had a point, but he was sure they had all taken at least an elementary course in health and first aid in their college careers. They’d at least know _something._ He gently ruffled up Roger’s hair, the only thing he could think of doing without hurting him, and left the bathroom before coming back with John and Freddie.

Freddie put his hand to his mouth. “Oh my, Roger… it’s even worse than Brian said…”

John looked at Roger’s injuries and felt sick at the thought of the drummer being hurt at all, but he tried not to look as dramatic as Freddie. “Shit… I’m so sorry, Rog.”

Roger threw his arms up but instantly regretted it. “There, are you happy now, Bri? I can’t believe I’m actually saying this but can we please go to hospital now? I’m done being a sideshow for you idiots to gawk at.”

Brian sighed, knowing he brought this side of Roger on himself but he also didn’t want to keep this a secret from the other two men. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The four men piled into the van, Roger opting to sit in the back with Freddie so he could kneel on the floor instead of sitting. They walked inside the hospital and waited for about an hour and a half until a nurse finally came over to Roger and told him a doctor would see him now.

Brian stood up, wanting to be with him, but the nurse refused to let him into the room with Roger, so the guitarist was forced to stay in the waiting room with the others.

Roger was only in the room for about ten minutes before he came out and instantly knocked a chair over in the waiting area on his way back to his friends.

Brian stood up quickly and walked over to him. “So? What’d the doctor say?”

The drummer turned on him with tears in his eyes, shoving a piece of prescription paper against his friend’s chest before he stormed out of the hospital, still limping.

Brian looked at the prescription and his eyebrows knit as he followed Roger out. “This is a prescription for sleeping pills… did you tell him the truth, Rog?”

“I did, which turned out to be a huge fucking mistake,” Roger started punching the van with his already injured hand, yelling in frustration before he kicked it. “Fuck!”

John and Freddie both hurried over to Roger and got between him and the van. “Not the van, darling. We paid too much for it,” Freddie replied, putting his arms out.

Despite the pain in his lower body, he started pacing back and forth as tears ran down his face.

Brian moved over to Roger. “What did you tell the doctor exactly, Rog?” He asked gently.

“I told him that I was… raped by my boyfriend, and that he also hit me with a belt… I told him the truth, Bri!”

Something wasn’t adding up. Brian gently made his friend stop pacing and looked at him. “What did the doctor say when you told him that?”

“He laughed in my fucking face! He told me that I was a bloody poof who was into kinky stuff, and I deserved whatever I got!” Roger cried out now, his voice cracking again. He let out a sob before he suddenly collapsed against Brian.

The other man was surprised by everything as it happened at once and held his friend gently against him as he cried into Brian’s chest. “Fucking bastards…” he said softly, glancing up at Freddie and John who watched them with helpless eyes full of sympathy.

“So what do we do now?” John asked, an edge of frustration in his voice.

Brian thought for a moment, letting Roger cry against him. “We go get this prescription filled and we go back home. I can’t think of anything past that right now.”

John nodded in understanding before he helped Brian get Roger up on his feet again and into the van, sitting on the floor of the van with Roger, letting the drummer lean against him as they stopped at the drug store and got the prescription filled.

Brian breathed a sigh of relief when they finally got back to the flat, helping Roger inside. It was when they were back inside the house when Brian noticed that he looked at the clock for about the tenth time that morning.

“What’s wrong?”

“D-David told me to be back at his place by lunch,” Roger answered fearfully.

Brian shook his head now. “You’re not going back there, Rog. I’m not sending you back there with that monster.”

The drummer tensed now and then jumped when he heard a hard knocking at the door. He looked at Brian with terror in his eyes. “S-Shit… it’s h-him.”

“Don’t worry. He’s not going to hurt you anymore, Roger,” Brian looked at Freddie and John. “Stay here with him. Don’t let him leave.”

He walked towards the door and only opened it a crack to see an angry looking David standing before him. “Piss off, you fucking cunt,” Brian said angrily.

David kicked the door all the way open and forced himself in, looking around until his eyes finally rested on Roger who was standing behind John and Freddie. “Get over here, Roger. Now.”

Brian stormed over to David and suddenly grabbed his shirt before he slammed him against the wall, glaring at him hard.

“You don’t get to tell him what to do anymore, or ever again! You’ve done enough damage to him and this family.”

“He’s nothing! Why do you want him?! He’s pathetic and weak! I’m making him better! I’m making him stronger!” David tried to fight against Brian, who stood his ground, holding David against the wall tightly.

It was all Brian could do to not knock David out right now. “If he is those things, it’s only because of you, you piece of shit! You tortured him. _You_ destroyed the person he used to be. If you ever touch him, or come here again, I’ll either kill you or call the police. It’s up to you, David.”

He let him go, shoving him towards the open door, not giving him any room for discussion.

“He’s weak because of _you_ , not me! He’ll come back to me… you’ll see.”

John was angry enough now to storm towards David, despite him being several inches shorter and smaller physically than the other man. “You can go now!”

David saw he was outnumbered and shot a look at Roger before he turned his back and stormed back towards the street to get a cab. Brian slammed the door and locked it before he moved over to Roger who had settled against a wall, feeling so emotionally and physically exhausted already today.

“H-He’ll be back for me.”

“That arsehole isn’t touching you ever again, Rog,” Brian insisted. “And if he does, I’ll fucking kill him.”

Roger didn’t think Brian actually would, but the thought did make him think. He felt so numb that he couldn’t even feel the fear that had overtaken him moments earlier. He was home again, and that was all that mattered right now. It was all he could focus on, at least.


	3. alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: this chapter contains dangerous eating disorder behaviors that I neither advise or condone. please be careful if this stuff triggers you <3

**.   .    .**

****

_“You know why I’m doing this don’t you, Roger? I’m doing this because I love you…”_

_Roger winced with every thrust and belt against his already blistered skin, the tears falling freely as he whimpered in pain. His arms trembled violently as he tried to force himself to take the full force of David._

_“Stop whimpering like a dog! This is how guys make love! You do want that, don’t you?”_

_Roger nodded but the pain was searing as he felt his back being pelted over and over again, his skin red hot and bleeding, leaving trails down his skin. He heard the sound of the belt being brought back just  before –_

Roger cried out now as he shot upright, feeling arms automatically wrap around his body. The pain brought him back to his nightmare and he instinctively started to try and fight the attacker away from him as he screamed.

“Stop! P-Please stop! L-Leave me alone! Please!”

“Roger! Rog!” Brian’s voice started yelling back as he grabbed his friend’s wrists to make him stop hitting him. “It’s just me! It’s Brian! You’re all right. You’re okay, Rog!”

The drummer suddenly let up and gave in. He had fallen asleep about an hour ago, despite it only being the early evening. They had been watching a movie on the couch and Roger decided to lay down, placing his head in Brian’s lap and gave into his exhaustion.

He held onto Brian tightly and felt the other man hold him as gently as he could without hurting him. Roger gasped to catch his breath. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see Freddie and John both looking at him.

“You’re safe, Rog. You’re home,” Brian tried to reassure him. “I promise you’re safe.”

Roger nodded but groaned in frustration, despising himself for feeling so fucking weak and pathetic. He kept his body close to the guitarist’s, breathing him in to calm himself. He soon felt his hair being stroked comfortingly.

“He’s obviously exhausted. Maybe it’s time to give him one of those sleeping pills?” John suggested, watching Roger and feeling his heart break for the man.

“Nonsense,” Freddie interjected. “What he needs is a soothing cup of chamomile tea to calm him nerves.” He already made his way into the kitchen and started the kettle.

Roger was already shaking his head. “I don’t want any fucking tea,” his voice trembled as he hugged Brian’s legs with his arms.

“You’re right, what you need is food,” the guitarist declared softly, still stroking the younger man’s hair.

Roger groaned again. His stomach hurt from hunger pangs and his entire body hurt so badly, the literal last thing he wanted to do right now was to eat, let alone look at food.

“Shall I make us something for dinner?” Freddie asked from the kitchen as he finished making the tea.

Roger looked over at John who was giving him a kind smile. He tried to give him one back, feeling bad for being such a bother for them. He remained quiet, not having the energy in him to argue anymore.

Brian sighed and looked over at the singer. “We’ll let him rest tonight, but he’ll eat something tomorrow. Get the pills, John. We’ll give him one now with some tea,” he said softly.

“Right,” John stood up and grabbed the orange bottle off the counter before taking one out and handing it over to Brian.

“Thank you.” He took the pill from him and carefully moved Roger so he was sitting upright. He waited until Freddie came in with the tea and then handed both to the drummer. “Swallow.”

Roger willingly swallowed the sleeping pill before he blew on the tea a few times and drank a sip. He hoped it would kick in quickly so he could get some dreamless sleep. He was quiet for a long time as his friends started talking amongst each other and he ended up spacing out until he heard his name.

“What?”

“Rog, darling, where did you go? I asked you what I could do to be of some help.” Freddie looked at him worriedly.

“Oh,” the drummer sighed, already feeling like the pill was kicking in. He shook his head as he leaned against Brian’s shoulder. “I’m all right, but… thanks, Freddie.”

Freddie gave him a warm smile. “Of course, darling.”

John glanced from Brian to Roger a bit worriedly before he stood up and headed towards his room without another word. Brian looked at Freddie in confusion.

“What was that about, then?”

Freddie chewed on his bottom lip before he gave him a weak smile. “I believe he’s just worried about our Rog and it hurts him to see him like this.”

“Ah,” Brian nodded in understanding but still looked by irked by John’s sudden disappearance.

Roger barely paid attention to the conversation as his friends started to watch a movie on the TV, feeling himself drifting in and out of consciousness as the sleeping pill and chamomile took over. Brian saw him falling asleep and spread his body on the couch so Roger was laying half on Brian, and half on the couch as he fell asleep.

The guitarist glanced over at Freddie who looked peaceful and at ease as he quietly smoked a cigarette as he watched the movie.

Brian watched it as well until he couldn’t keep his own eyes open any longer eager and soon fell asleep.

 

**…………… … ………. … ……….**

Roger woke up the next morning feeling refreshed, not having had had any nightmares during the night. He was surprised to find himself laying half on, half off of Brian and was immediately worried that he had crushed him with his weight during the night. He carefully got off of the couch, trying his best not to disturb the older man in the process.

He looked around to see Freddie had gone to bed at some point last night, and he remembered Deaky had as well. He was finally alone, and fuck was he famished.

He started quietly opening and closing cabinets as he looked for anything to eat. It didn’t even have to be breakfast food, and he knew it most likely wouldn’t be. Roger looked in the fridge and his eyes fell on the vegetarian soup Brian made a couple nights ago for dinner; they’d have to eat it today or else let it go bad.

He took the soup and didn’t even bother to microwave it as he grabbed the bowl and walked into the bedroom to eat it so he wouldn’t disturb Brian and not be bothered by anyone else who might wake up.

He closed the door to his room and started eating at a rapid pace, feeling ravenous. He didn’t even focus on the taste as he ate the soup, not even caring that it was Brian’s gross vegetarian soup, only that he wanted to not feel so hungry anymore. By the time he had finished eating, he felt dizzy. Then a thought crossed his mind.

_Fuck. He couldn’t let any of them know that he ate the whole large bowl of soup._

_Pig._

_Disgusting, fat pig._

He hid the soup bowl under the bed quickly and wiped his mouth of the evidence. He shouldn’t have even touched it in the first place.

 _You deserve to be found out you, you fat cow._ _What would David think of you?_

_David._

He dug his nails into his palms hard at the thought. David would tell him exactly what he thought, how Roger had no self-control and how he would gain weight. Roger dug his nails in deeper and then he realized he made a mistake.

_He made a mistake. He made a fucking mistake, a big fucking one._

The calories would absorb into his body and make him bloat like a goddamn whale. He’d get extra skin under his chin and on his stomach and arms, and thighs. He needed to get rid of it before it was too late.

 _Back to old habits, at least ones he had started when he moved in with David._ Tips David had taught him because he’d be damned if he’d be seen with an overweight drummer.

He snuck out of the bedroom and made a beeline for the bathroom before he locked it behind him. He stood over the toilet and pressed his tongue firmly down in his mouth, no longer needing to use his fingers anymore.

He had it down to a science, a depressing science.

It wasn’t long until he felt the soup come up and let it fall into the toilet, leaning down so he wouldn’t splash. He moved his hair out of the way.

He had to get rid of all of it, and spent a good ten minutes in there to make sure it all came up. He wiped the tears that had involuntarily ran down his face before he heard a knocking at the door.

“Rog, darling! Are you quite all right? Can I get you anything?”

The drummer took a deep breath and flushed before he walked over to the door and opened it. “No, Freddie. I’m all right, but thanks.”

“You’ve been in there for quite a while, and you sounded very ill.” Freddie looked at the blonde with concern in his eyes.

Roger sidestepped Freddie before seeing the others in the kitchen glance over at him when he walked in. He poured himself some coffee and joined them, sitting down in between John and Brian before he lit a cigarette.

Freddie followed him into the kitchen and looked at him cautiously. “Are you sure coffee and cigarettes are a good idea? They might make you feel worse, Rog.”

Roger felt a nerve strike suddenly, like someone had lit a match off of them. He gave Freddie a cold look. “Lay off, Fred. I’m fine now. Just… leave me alone.”

John gave Roger a look of disbelief and Brian raised his eyebrows in surprise at Roger’s agitation towards the singer.

Freddie put his hands up in surrender. “Don’t shoot, darling. I’m simply worried about you, is all. No need to be a prat about it.” He looked over at Brian before he started towards the bathroom to shower.

No one said anything until they heard the water in the pipes.

“Are you still feeling nauseous, Roger?” Brian asked, worry laced in his eyes as he watched his friend drink his coffee and smoke.

The drummer shook his head as he took another drag. “No, Bri. I’m fine now.”

“Strange,” the guitarist thought aloud. “I wonder what could have made you sick. Maybe it’s a side effect from the pills?” He looked over at John who looked thoughtful before he shrugged.

_If they believed it was the pills making him nauseous, they’d made him stop taking them. He needed them._

“No, I don’t think it’s the pills,” Roger shook his head. “I think it’s probably because I haven’t eaten much so my stomach’s a bit uneasy.”

Brian nodded, apparently agreeing with the hypothesis. “Yeah, that would make sense. Maybe you should have some tea and crackers today, until your stomach gets used to food again.”

Roger nodded, all right with that. “Yeah, sounds like a good idea.”

Brian nodded and gave Roger a small smile before turning his attention to John and started talking about writing a possible song with him today. Roger felt numb as he half listened to them, mostly just enjoying the cigarette he was smoking as he felt his nausea disappearing.

He felt alone even though he had his friends around him. He didn’t like Freddie mothering him, but he also didn’t like not being the center of someone’s attention.

 _Fuck that sounds so bad._ Maybe it was because he was so used to David making Roger the center of _his_ attention.

He needed to get out of here. He finished off his cigarette and stood up. Instantly Brian stopped the conversation and looked up at Roger.

“What are your plans for today?”

Roger shrugged. “I figure I’d go out.”

“Where?” Brian asked suspiciously.  This wasn’t going to be so easy.

The drummer felt his nerves firing up again. “I’m an adult, Bri. I appreciate your concern but I don’t need to tell you every single detail about where I’m going or what I’m doing.” Roger wasn’t yelling but he knew the malice in his voice could be clearly heard.

Brian sighed, starting to get impatient. “Roger, sit down. Please. We’re probably going to work on a couple songs today, and it’d be nice if we had your input on them.”

“No,” Roger shook his head. “You were able to write songs for three months without me. I have faith you can keep at it.”

“That’s not fair, Roger,” John suddenly spoke. “We _had_ to write them without you or else we’d never get an album done! You were with your boy toy!”

Roger clenched his jaw and turned on John. “You’re joking, right, Deaky?” He challenged the bassist. He couldn’t even say otherwise because then it meant he had to admit he was getting raped, and he couldn’t focus on that word yet.

John stood his ground, anger flaring in his eyes. “No, _you’re_ the joke, Roger! You fuck off with that wanker and you barely come home for three months! Three fucking months we could’ve used to work on this album, and you couldn’t care less about Queen because you’re off fucking one!”

That set Roger off and he squared his shoulders before he raised his fist to hit John. Brian quickly stood up and grabbed his arm firmly, stopping him before he got in between them.

“Enough! Both of you, calm down! Back to your corners…”

Roger still glared at John who shot him a glare right back. He stormed to his bedroom and got changed before he quickly walked out the door, knowing exactly where he wanted to go. He was going to make a fucking day of it. He was sick of being judged here, with his so-called friends.

He headed to the pub about five minutes away, not caring it was still early. He drank about four pints and smoked about five cigarettes before he grabbed a cab and then headed for the Whisky-A-Go-Go club.

He had three more drinks there, and now he was feeling considerably drunk. The music seemed to pound in his head as he started to make his way towards the toilets when he felt a hand grab his shoulder gently.

“Roger?”

If he hadn’t heard his voice, he would’ve assumed it had been Brian following him here, but no. The voice he wouldn’t mistake for anyone else in the world. He turned around and almost thought he was going to throw up again. He took a step back.

_David._

“W-What are you doing here?” Roger asked, genuinely surprised to see him. He never step foot in clubs like these as long as the drummer had known him.

“I could ask you the same thing, love. I thought I had lost you forever, but thank God you’re here now. I’m so glad you came back to me…” He suddenly wrapped his arms around him a little too tightly.

Roger was about to push him away but he had it; he had the attention he wanted. He didn’t even think twice that the man who was standing in front of him had beat him or _dare he even think it_ , rape him. He swallowed hard, ignoring how dry the alcohol and cigarettes had made his throat and immediately planted his lips on David’s.

The other man kissed him back feverishly before he placed a hand on Roger’s chest to stop him before he took his hand. “Come on. We should go back home.”

_Home._

The idea sent warmth to Roger’s heart again and followed David back to his flat. As soon as they had entered, the drummer heard the chain lock on the door. He looked around at David questioningly but felt too drunk to care about himself right now.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly and then felt David’s hand on his back before he heard him chuckle.

“I see you’re gaining weight again, my love.”

Roger felt panic hit chest first and simply nodded, knowing better than to argue with him.

“Don’t worry, Roger. We’ll take care of that. For now, let’s go take a shower and get the stench of that wretched place off of you.”

Roger shook his head. “Mmm… no. I’ll take one in the morning. I just want to sleep.” He started to walk towards the bedroom but then felt David give him a hard tug in the direction of the bathroom. In his fogginess, the drummer quickly forced his arm away from David. “I’m so tired, David. Just… let me sleep…”

Before he knew what had happened, he heard a ringing in his ears and he was leaning against the wall, looking up. He blinked several times, trying to get a clear head but the ringing continued.

He felt a throbbing in his head and he suddenly felt sobered up. He heard a difference in his hearing and he turned back to David who was yelling at him, and then turned away, David’s voice muffled and distant unexpectedly, but he had taken enough biology and health classes in uni to realize what was going on.

He had damaged his right ear. This terrified him, and he looked up at David just in time to see him hit him across the face so hard that he could taste blood.

He started forcing himself to move away from the violence, realizing his mistake way too late. He had forgotten himself around David. Spending a night with Brian and friends had made him more relaxed.

 _What the fuck made him think he could talk to David like that?_  Well, now he had paid the ultimate price. _Fuck._

It was too late to leave now. He was too drunk to even think straight right now. He could half-hear what David was yelling at him when he turned his good ear towards him but otherwise it was mostly muffled.

“You made me do this! You….”

Roger turned his head away now and forced himself up off the floor, his fear boosting his adrenaline. He needed to get the fuck out of here before he lost hearing in his other ear. The thought of this still terrified him beyond belief, though.

He stumbled back a little back but caught himself on a table.

_Get out. Get out._

“Where are you going?!” David started towards him but Roger moved out of the way in time before David could grab him.

_Get the fuck out._

Roger ran towards the door but fumbled with the lock and then felt pain in his scalp when David grabbed at his hair and pulled hard.

He let out a cry of pain before he tried to shove David away.

_He was an idiot to come here, a fucking idiot._

David clawed at his back with his nails, digging in sharply. Roger fell to his knees from the pain, still feeling the pain from the belt welts from the other night. He reached up quickly and undid the lock before he ran out, hitting the wall with his body.

“Stay the hell away from me…” Roger breathed heavily, backing away as he looked at David with fear in his eyes.

David stayed in the doorway, glaring darkly at him. “Fine, leave you goddamn pig! Don’t ever come back because I don’t want to see you ever again! You’re nothing, Roger! Nothing!”

The drummer felt tears in his eyes as he stumbled back some more. He started walking quickly out of the building, not stopping until he was out on the street. He ran his hands through his hair, panic and pain shooting furiously throughout his body. He was drunk, lost, in pain, terrified and half deaf. He couldn’t deal with this right now.

He didn’t feel safe sleeping on a bench so he opted for a phone booth, making sure it was at least closer to Brian’s flat than to David’s. He closed the door behind him and fell to the floor before he let himself start sobbing finally.

_He was such a fucking asshole. How could he do this to himself? How could David? Didn’t he love him? Did Brian? Did Freddie or Deaky? Did anyone?_

He hit his hand weakly against the inside, too drunk to make a fist. He moved his legs close to his chest and leaned against the inside before he eventually fell asleep, alone again.


	4. q & a

**.    .    .**

Roger woke up to muffled pounding on the door of the phone booth and abruptly woke up, fearing it had been David coming back for him. He looked up to see an angry looking stranger glaring down at him. He forced himself up, feeling the dizziness hit him all over again, causing him to stumble a little.

He caught himself against the booth and finally opened the door and hurried out so the stranger could use the phone. He looked around at his surroundings, attempting to remember where he was.

From the familiar buildings around him, he estimated he was probably about 10 minutes away from the flat. He started walking, the muted sounds of the city not going amiss to him every time he turned his head. He felt hot tears in his eyes.

_How the fuck was he going to drum?_

He needed to hear everything, every beat, every chord. If he missed just one, he wouldn’t be in time with the others. They were going to kick him out of Queen.

He took a few deep breaths to keep him from panicking but the dizziness got worse the longer he walked and he had to apologize to a few people he accidentally bumped with his shoulder as he stumbled a bit.

Not to mention that he was hungover, but that seemed minute compared to his hearing issue at the moment.

_Fucking David._

He swallowed back the panic as he finally made it to the flat, opening the door and stumbling inside. He turned around to see three worried faces looking at him before Freddie ran over to him first and threw his arms around him.

“Oh thank _God_. I thought something dreadful had happened to you, Roger!”

Brian walked over to him carefully, perhaps noticing that something was off. John also walked over, a look of concern on his face as well, despite the last time they had seen each other.

Roger didn’t even know what to say and felt pathetic as he suddenly started sobbing in front of the other men. The sudden outburst took them all by surprise and Brian knew now for sure that something awful really had happened after all. 

Brian wrapped his arms around Roger as he cried, holding him tightly before he took him over to the couch and helped him sit down. He knelt down in front of him and glanced him over before noticing blood. He gently touched his hand to the right side of Roger’s head and came up with blood.

“Oh god,” he breathed shakily. “We need to take him to hospital…”

Roger didn’t bother arguing. Maybe the hospital could fix his hearing issue. The other guys helped Roger stand back up and into the van. When they got to the ER, they took him relatively quickly but the boys found themselves waiting for what felt like hours.

“This is ridiculous,” John scoffed. “We’ve been waiting forever. You would think someone would come out by now!”

“Don’t worry, dear,” Freddie soothed, placing a hand on John’s arm. “We just need to let them take care of him. Rog will be fine.”

Brian was the only one not able to sit. He was pacing in distress. Something had happened to his friend and he hadn’t been there to protect him. Worse yet, he hated that he didn’t even know what _had_ happened.

Had Roger gotten into a bar fight? Had he run into David? Did _he_ do this?

Brian hated not knowing. Roger had looked so spaced out, though. Something else wasn’t right.

About half an hour later, a doctor came out with Roger who looked uneasy and nervous. He looked between them all, smirking slightly as he recognized them, but it also wasn’t a smirk that Brian liked.

“Your friend here appeared to have an interesting night,” he glanced over at Roger and chuckled.

Brian’s eyes darkened now and he looked over at Roger who couldn’t meet his eyes. He looked at the doctor. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Well, it looks like he suffered hearing damage on his right side from falling into a wall with a pretty decent force. Unfortunately, it looks like unilateral deafness after doing several tests and it looks permanent, sorry to say,” the doctor replied, not really appearing sorry at all.

Brian tensed, stopping himself from punching this doctor out right now. He looked over at Roger who looked like he was trying to read the doctor’s lips and he felt his heart sink into his stomach. He cleared his throat, taking a breath.

“I-Is his head okay? Does he have a concussion or anything?”

“A slight concussion, but he should be okay. I’d try and keep him awake for a few hours just to be sure he’s all right, but it looks like he’s going to be fine.”

It was John now who took a step towards the doctor. “S-So… the deafness… umm… there’s nothing we can do for that, to help him hear better I mean?”

The doctor sighed and shrugged. “There’s some hearing aids I can offer but I’ll be honest, they aren’t very good. We simply don’t have the technology to produce decent ones yet, I’m afraid.”

“Is there a chance his hearing will come back ever?” Freddie asked, searching the doctor’s face frantically.

“Maybe… a 5-10% chance, but… it’s unlikely. The damage to the eardrum is pretty severe.”

The others all sucked in a breath and Brian gave the doctor a thankful nod. “Right, thanks,” when the doctor left, he turned his attention to Roger, sympathy and sadness in his eyes. “Let’s go home.”

Roger nodded and it was a quiet ride back home but once they got back, none of the men escaped to their rooms, opting to stay with Roger instead. The drummer didn’t know what to do with himself so he sat down on the couch, John and Freddie sitting down at his feet and Brian sitting beside Roger, putting an arm around his shoulder.

Brian remembered that it had been Roger’s right ear that was damaged so he was sitting on his left side. He looked at him. “Talk to us, mate. Tell us what happened last night. Did… did you really fall into the wall, like the doctor said?”

Freddie and John looked up at Roger as well with interest.

Roger swallowed hard and looked down at his hands. He took a shaky breath, feeling so tired and sore. “I-I got drunk, really drunk last night… and I went to a club and I-I saw him. I-I saw David… he told me to come back with him, so… I d-did.”

Brian was already not liking where this was going but he nodded. “Go on, Rog.”

The drummer sighed and looked down at John, hating himself for the shit he had said to him yesterday during their argument and regretted it. Looking at the bassist now, though, it was like they hadn’t even had a fight. He didn’t deserve any of them.

“Umm… I wanted to go to bed. I was… s-so tired, but David told me to go take a shower and… I-I told him I didn’t want to, that I just wanted to sleep, and… he…” Roger looked away, replaying the scene in his mind, although there were a couple fuzzy places. “I don’t remember exactly what he did, but I know that I was on the floor a few seconds later and I was looking up at him. I saw him yelling, and… h-he was so mad… I could hear him, a little, but mostly just an annoying ringing in my ears. I didn’t even know my head was bleeding. I was just… pretty dizzy, you know?”

“Why didn’t you come back home, darling?” Freddie asked gently. “We were so worried about you.”

Roger chewed on his lip but winced, remembering now that David had hit him. He shrugged. “I was too tired so I found a phone booth and… fell asleep.”

“You should’ve called us, Roger. We would’ve come and gotten you, like always.” John’s voice was assuring but it made the drummer feel worse.

_Like always._

Like the burden Roger was to them.

“It was late,” the blonde shrugged, knowing it was a feeble excuse. “I d-didn’t want to wake anyone.”

Brian casually ran his fingers through Roger’s hair comfortingly. “We would’ve come for you,” he repeated in a soft voice. “We always do and always will. It doesn’t matter what time it is, yeah? We’ll always come find you.”

Roger felt his heart swell now. Somehow, Brian’s words made him feel better. He nodded in understanding. “I’m sorry… I-I’m… so fucking s-sorry,” he suddenly gasped.

The others tensed and Freddie knitted his brows. “Whatever for, darling?”

Roger pointed to his right ear and felt himself crying again. “F-For this! I-I did this to myself a-and now I can’t even f-fucking drum anymore! Y-You’re going to kick me out of the band a-and out of the flat and –"

“Calm down, Rog,” Brian spoke. “You didn’t do this to yourself. David did this, not you. You really think we’d kick you out of the band? We’re family, and family stays together, no matter what.”

Roger swallowed hard, shaking his head before he looked over at the other two men. “I-I’m dispensable… you can replace me! You _should_ r-replace me!”

John shook his head. “You’re not dispensable, Roger.”

“You really think we’d replace you because you hit your head and are half deaf, darling?” Freddie asked. “We haven’t even replaced you for being an absolute twat most of the time! This is simply a bump in the road. We’ll figure something out, dear, but replacing you is simply not in the cards.”

Roger was surprised at this. He thought for sure that his time with Queen had been a lucky break, a fleeting moment in time. He thought for sure they wouldn’t want a half-deaf drummer. He tried to pull himself together but between his tiredness and the pain on his back and in his head, he just couldn’t stop himself.

Brian placed his hand on Roger’s back to caress it but then felt the drummer flinch away from him. He felt his stomach twist up in knots and he looked at him before glancing over at Freddie and John. “Can one of you please go get the antiseptic and bandages from the bathroom?”

“I will,” John instantly said, standing up and hurrying into the bathroom before he came back out a few moments later, with the addition of rubbing alcohol, just in case.

Brian looked over at Roger who shook his head almost pleadingly. He looked at him with only compassion in his eyes. “You need to take off your shirt, Rog. You’re obviously in pain and we need to make sure nothing gets infected. We don’t want to go back to hospital, right?”

Brian’s point made Roger nod reluctantly; he definitely didn’t want to go back there with that arsehole doctor. He reached up with his arms and gently pulled his shirt up his back and then over his head, wanting to get the dirty, blood stained shirt off of him anyway.

He closed his eyes when he heard everyone seemingly gasp in surprise and shock at the state of his back. It felt pretty horrible, but he didn’t really know how bad it actually was.

_He could still feel David’s nails running down his skin with the hot, searing pain._

“Jesus Christ, did he set loose his tiger on you, darling?”

Roger swallowed hard. “I-It’s not that bad, is it?”

Brian gave an unsure look and sighed as he poured some rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball and started dabbing at the raised scratches on his friend’s back. He felt sick at the sight of them; not because of Roger, but at the thought of anyone daring to hurt the drummer. He felt anger boiling inside of him with every one he disinfected.

“They’re red and angry but I doubt it’ll scar. Damn it, they _are_ pretty deep, though,” Brian noted, now applying antiseptic cream on them as gently as he could. “Why didn’t the doctor mention these at the hospital?”

Roger was quiet for a long time, suddenly feeling shame swell up inside of him.

“Rog?” Freddie asked softly.

The man sighed, feeling Brian’s eyes on him as well. “He said… that ‘my kind’ deserved whatever happened to me, because of… the activities that we do. He didn’t say anything else about it. I guess he thought that… I was willing in some kind of kink, like with the belt sores.”

Brian clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “Fucking tosser.”

The drummer nodded once. “Yeah.”

 “So what are we going to do?”

The question made the guitarist glance up at John. “What do you mean?”

John gave him a look of disbelief. “Are you serious? This is the second time Roger’s boyfriend has seriously hurt him! Are we not going to do anything about it?”

Brian finished putting three large bandages on the scratches to give them protection before he looked back at the bassist. “What do you suggest we do, John?”

The shorter man threw his arms up in the air in frustration. “I don’t know! But something would be a nice start! Or anything!”

“Calm down, Deaky,” Brian tried to cool the man down a little. “Give me some ideas.”

John took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Call the police on the fucker!” He looked from Brian to Roger before looking over at Freddie.

“I don’t think that would work, darling,” the singer said gently.

“Why not?” John demanded.

“The same reason why we couldn’t go to them about the belt sores, dear. They’ll think the same way the doctors and nurses at the hospital thinks and that wouldn’t work in our favor. The police will think it’s just a… gay thing, and they’ll laugh and look the other way,” Freddie explained. “I’m sorry, darling, but it’s just not a very good idea.”

John ran a hand through his hair before he looked at Brian again helplessly. “I hate this. I fucking hate this, mate. Doing nothing is not an option! We can’t just sit here and watch Roger suffer!”

Roger shook his head. He wasn’t worth all this arguing and anger over him. He had deserved what he had gotten. Even if the doctors and nurses at the hospital were huge homophobes, it felt like it excused David’s behavior, and made it seem okay.

“No one’s disputing that, John. Trust me, no one’s more angry about what happened than I am,” the guitarist tried to assure him as he stood up to throw out the wrappings.

“Really? Are you sure?” John challenged. “You seem pretty calm to me!”

Brian sighed, knowing that John’s heart was in the right place and he was just as frustrated as the rest of them. He glanced to make sure Roger was okay before he looked at the younger man.

“I’m pissed off too, Deaky, trust me. I’m just better at holding it in,” he scratched his temple. “We can’t go over to David’s flat and beat him up. If we do that, then we’re not any better than him.”

Freddie took Brian’s seat on the couch next to Roger, placing a gentle hand on the drummer’s knee. “Don’t worry, dear. We’ll figure out something. That arsehole won’t go unpunished, I promise.”

Roger shook his head and looked over at Brian talking to John but couldn’t hear their conversation. He looked back at Freddie.

“Don’t bother, Freddie. I mean, I deserved it, didn’t I? I went home with him! I _let_ him do that!”

The singer instantly started to shake his head, his eyes sad. “No, of course you didn’t deserve what happened to you. You didn’t ‘let’ him do anything, darling. He hurt you, badly. You didn’t ask him to do any of that. It was wrong, Rog. What he did to you was wrong and awful.”

Roger still thought otherwise but he nodded to end the discussion. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and curled up on the couch but Freddie automatically made him sit back up again.

“Sorry, dear but the doctor _did_ say to try to keep you awake for a few hours to make sure you don’t have a severe concussion or anything. Even if he is a wanker, I believe that he could be right about this one.”

Roger groaned but obeyed him and forced himself to stay sitting upright. He leaned forward instead and decided to check something. He lifted his right hand and snapped two fingers together next to his right ear to see if he could hear anything.

It was nearly inaudible. It sounded more like a vibration than a sound, if anything.

He snapped his fingers again, and again. He couldn’t hear the actual _snap_ sound of his fingers, and that was more frustrating than anything.

John looked over at Roger as he did this and then looked over at Brian who was watching him intently and heard him whisper to him.

“Don’t do anything stupid, John,” Brian eyed him carefully. “I know that David would deserve it for hurting Roger, but it won’t change anything. All right, Deaky?”

The bassist reluctantly nodded even though he wanted to shake his head. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself but he still felt angry.

“We need to help Roger right now,” the guitarist went on in a low voice. “He needs us right now, and it’s not going to help him if we come home covered in David’s blood and bloody knuckles, yeah? Let’s just focus on our friend.”

John bit back his anger now and took another breath. “Fine. Y-You’re right,” John conceded. “Roger comes first.”

Brian nodded, satisfied at John’s decision. “Good man,” he gently patted the bassist’s arm and walked back over to Freddie. “We’re getting low on groceries again, especially first aid supplies. Can you take John and head to the store?”

The singer seemed surprised but nodded. “Of course, darling. Come on, Deaky.”

The younger man knew that this was just to get him out of the house and into fresh air to relax, but he nodded and followed Freddie out of the flat.

The flat was quieter now that both men were gone and Roger felt like he could relax a little more. He looked down at his hands, remembering how fast he had tried to unlock the chain lock with his fingers, like a madman.

“Hey,” Brian spoke, trying to get his attention. When Roger hummed in acknowledged, the guitarist continued. “Did… did he do anything else to you, Roger?” He asked gently. “Did he…?”

Roger was tired of pussyfooting around it now. He was still feeling utterly confused about how love and sex worked anymore, but he just wanted Brian to talk bluntly about what was happening. “Did he rape me? Is that what you’re asking? Just say it, Bri.”

“Fine,” Brian nodded. “Did he rape you again, Roger?”

The drummer shook his head. “No, not this time.”

“Christ, Rog. There shouldn’t had even been a first time,” Brian sighed to himself, putting his face in his hands. “Not that it was your fault, because it wasn’t, of course.”

“Wasn’t it?”

Brian looked up at him again. “ _No,_ Rog. It wasn’t. None of this was.”

“Even if it wasn’t, it happened. You really think I’m going to be able to drum only hearing half the song being played?” Roger asked with a tinge of frustration. “It’s bollocks, Brian! You need to find another drummer. I’m not going to be able to do it anymore.”

The guitarist shook his head. “No, nope. Not doing it. It’s you, or none at all. I told you before, we’ll figure something out.”

Roger stood up now. “There’s nothing to figure out! Queen is done. I can’t play half deaf, always missing beats!” He stormed towards the bathroom and locked the door before he sat down on the closed toilet seat, running his fingers through his hair as tears ran down his cheeks freely.

What good was he anymore? He had dreamed of becoming a big rock star from his first drum kit as a kid. He had dreamed so big and now he felt like Icarus, flying too close to the sun. He could feel his wings melting.

_This was his fault. It didn’t matter what Brian or Freddie had told him. He had done this to himself. He had been stupid enough to think that David actually loved him._

_What the fuck even was love?_ He didn’t even know sex with a guy was anymore. He obviously knew what it was with a woman, but he always thought his first boyfriend would show him the ropes. Maybe it was just either being raped or the one doing the raping, if it was even that.

He felt so fucking mixed up and confused, and angry, and frustrated. He stood up and paced, swallowing back a sob before he started to quietly rummage in the medicine cabinet, his hands shaky as his emotions became a hurricane.

He finally found what he was looking for a few moments later as his eyes settled on one of Brian’s extra razor blades he used for shaving. He grabbed a washcloth under the sink and sat back on the toilet, taking a deep breath as he stopped his hands from shaking and focused on the task at hand.

He dragged the blade down his bare skin on his forearm, not deep enough to seriously hurt himself, but deep enough to stop the whirlwind of emotions that were hitting him relentlessly all at once. He dragged it down a second time right next to the first one and watched the blood seeping out of his skin. He let out a sigh of relief he never felt and closed his eyes, finally feeling the emotions cease and his body relax.

He couldn’t help but feel like he was feeling a little better now. It was an odd sensation. He put the washcloth over his forearm to stop the bleeding and applied a little pressure to help it clot.

Then he heard the knocking at the door.

“Rog? Please come out… I think we should talk about this some more,” Brian’s voice came from the other side so it was muffled already but having a door between them and Roger’s bad ear didn’t do any favors either.

Roger moved over and sat down on the floor with his back to the door, not wanting to shout to him. He still held the cloth to his arm. “I can’t. I can’t talk about it anymore today. Please… just leave me alone, Bri…”

The drummer felt so exhausted, physically and emotionally. Unfortunately, he could feel the sadness and reality of the situation starting to creep in again. The pain of the razor had worked only temporarily and now he was feeling too much.

He swallowed hard.

He suddenly heard what sounded like Brian sitting against the door on the floor too. “I just want to help, Rog. I’m on your side, we all are. We just want to help you.”

The drummer sighed to himself. “I know. I’m just… done. It’s over, Brian.”

“Do you remember the night we first met, Rog?” Brian’s soft voice asked through the door. The blonde didn’t reply but Brian continued talking, a hint of a laugh in his voice. “You thought I was hitting on you but I was actually interviewing you to be in a band,”

Roger pulled his legs into his body, still quiet as he remembered that night.

“I knew you were going to be an amazing drummer, even before I heard you play. You were so… confident, cocky. You were the first drummer I even talked to. You told me to piss off,” Brian chuckled. “Do you remember that, Rog?”

“Yeah,” Roger acknowledged. “I remember.”

There was a couple minutes of silence between them until Brian spoke again. “Come on out. We don’t even have to talk about your deafness. I just… want to hang out.”

“Hey Brian…”

“Yeah?”

“Piss off.” At first Roger didn’t know if he was serious or not until he heard himself laugh.

There was a laugh that came from the other side of the door as well.

“Make us some tea, and I’ll be out in a couple minutes.”  Roger heard movement on the other side and then made sure his cuts stopped bleeding before he put the washcloth in the dirty clothes bin and then opened the door.

He tucked his arm in so Brian wouldn’t notice it and headed over to where his shirt was on the couch before he quickly put it back on and then walked into the kitchen where Brian was.

“Was I really the first drummer you interviewed?” Roger asked quietly.

Brian smirked and nodded. “Yeah, you were. It was lucky that you eventually said yes. I’m glad it was you, Rog. Really. I am.”

The blonde nodded and bit his lip, unsure what to say to that so he choose to keep quiet. There was a comfortable silence between both of them until they both had their tea.

Roger looked down into his cup. “Brian? Umm… I’m confused about something.”

“What is it, Roger?” Brian looked at him curiously.

“You said before that David raped me. W-We… we had sex, though, right? I mean, that’s how guys are supposed to… do it, yeah? What makes it rape? What’s the difference between having sex with a guy and a girl, I mean, besides the obvious.”

He hadn’t meant to throw all those questions at his friend at once but he wanted to ask them before Freddie and John both got back. Brian was the only one he was probably more comfortably asking the questions in front of.

Brian raised his eyebrows and moved over to Roger with his tea, leaning against the counter. He put his fingers on his chin in though. “Well… I know the basic mechanics of gay sex, but… consent is everything, Roger. When you and David were having sex, what were you feeling?”

The younger man thought for a moment. “S-Scared. I mean, it hurt. It… really hurt, a lot, at first, but then… eventually, it felt amazing. He… wanted to do it when _he_ wanted to do it. It didn’t matter if I said no. He just… didn’t stop.”

Brian nodded patiently, figuring out how to make Roger understand. “Okay, pretend for a second, that you’re a woman. What would you do if a lass told you no when you made advances on her, trying to get her into bed?”

The thought of himself forcing _anyone_ , guy or girl, to have sex made him feel sick. He’d never do it, no matter how drunk or angry he was. “I’d stop, obviously.” He didn’t even have to think about it.

Of course he would stop if the woman he was with suddenly said no. He might be disappointed, but he’d let her go willingly.

“I know you would,” Brian nodded knowingly. “Which proves that you’re better than _him._ He heard your pleas to stop, and he ignored you. He raped you, Rog. I don’t think, in my opinion, that you had the right kind of sex you’re supposed to have with another guy. I think… that’s on a completely different level, with two consenting people. I know I’m not an expert on gay anything, but… I assume it’d be the same idea as it is between a straight couple, logically.”

Roger searched Brian’s face. “So… David really did rape me…” the drummer tried to let it sink in, the consent part making the most sense to him.

Brian bit his lip before he extended his arm to touch Roger’s arm, oblivious to the drummer cringing slightly as he unknowingly touched his cuts.

“I’m so sorry, Roger. Really… I wish that I could’ve protected you from him.”

The drummer shook his head. “It’s not your fault, Bri. I thought he loved me… I thought that… what he was doing was love, but I guess it wasn’t.”

The other man shook his head sympathetically. “It wasn’t love. He was controlling and abusive, and it was wrong what he did.”

Roger nodded, having more questions but knew that he’d have to wait until he saw Freddie again to ask them. He needed to ask someone who would know.

Brian and him drank their tea and talked about other things like song writing and the album. Roger hadn’t even realized how much time had gone by until he saw Freddie and John both enter the flat with their arms full of bags.

“F-Freddie?” Roger asked, standing up timidly. “Umm… can I… can I talk to you about something? In private?”

The singer’s eyes were worried but gentle as he looked at his friend. “Of course, darling. You pick the room.”

John looked between them before looking at Brian who gave him a small smile and started to help unload the groceries.

Roger led him to his room, figuring he might not be too nervous if he was somewhere he felt comfortable and safe. Once they got to his room, he shut the door behind Freddie and took a deep breath.


	5. explanation

**.    .    .**

“So what’s on your mind, darling?”

Roger bit his lip and took a breath. He hadn’t ever thought he’d have to be discussing gay sex with Freddie ever. It was hard enough for the drummer to admit he was gay or bi or whatever, as it was. It was bad enough he barely even knew the general mechanics of having sex with another guy.

“Umm… well, all right,” Roger ran a hand through hair tensely.

Freddie gave a warm, encouraging smile. “It’s just me you’re talking to here, Rog. I promise there’s no need to be so nervous. You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Roger nodded and searched the singer’s face. “What’s gay sex supposed to be like, Freddie?”

The singer tensed a little, looking at Roger with a serious expression. “Well, what do _you_ think it’s supposed to be like?”

Roger shrugged and thought back to his conversation with Brian a few minutes earlier. “Bri says consensual, which makes sense, obviously. I mean… what happens when _you_ have sex with a man, Freddie? Like, step by step.”

If this was anyone else asking, Freddie would have told them to piss off to ask such a personal question, but this was Roger. He knew why he was asking now and he wanted to make sure that his friend knew the difference between rape and sex.

It didn’t mean that it still wasn’t awkward to talk about, however.

“Usually, we make out for a while, maybe touch over the clothes, a little teasing. Then we take our clothes off, make out a little more, decide who’s going to be the top and bottom, and then we just… go at it,” he searched Roger’s face. “Umm… Brian is right, though. Consent is vitally important. Both parties should be more than willing to do it and be willing to stop if the other person changes their mind.”

Roger thought about how David and Roger had sex. There wasn’t a lot of kissing involved. “So… kissing is important, then?”

Freddie wet his lips in thought, his heart aching for Roger and decided to try a different approach. “Rog, dear, how do you have sex with a woman?” He wasn’t asking in a patronizing way, his voice patient and gentle.

Roger ran a hand through his hair. “I find a woman who’s willing, or rather, they usually end up finding me,” he smirked weakly, appearing a little more comfortable now. “We make out, some over the clothes stuff too, I guess, like you said, and… I let her lay however she wants or… let her be on top if she wants and we… do it.”

“Right,” the singer smiled, nodding. “So… you make out as well, excellent. I believe that… kissing is still a very intimate thing to do with someone, Rog, and… I think that it adds to the excitement of… having sex with someone. I don’t believe it has to always be locking lips with someone either. I think the kissing can be anywhere, and still be a part of sex.”

Roger took this in and nodded. “What if there’s no kissing at all?”

Freddie had to think about all the people he had sex with. He couldn’t remember an instance where there was absolutely no kissing involved except… maybe one. He looked down at his hands before he looked back at Roger.

“In my experience, I’ve found that when they don’t kiss you before or during sex, then… they’re usually just using you for sex and there’s no emotional ties to you for them. Is that what David did, or rather… didn’t do?”

Roger nodded. “Y-Yeah, he wasn’t… big on kissing. What about tops and bottoms?” Roger asked suddenly as the question appeared in his own mind. “Does it matter who’s what?”

Freddie shrugged. “It depends on what you’re most comfortable with doing. Sometimes, height plays a part but mostly, it’s what you like. Do you like being submissive or dominant?”

Roger knew Freddie’s question was rhetorical but it made him think so much so that he wanted to answer it, more for himself than for the singer.

“I like being submissive with women, but… I usually end up being a bottom with David. What do you think that means?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a submissive as long as you’re okay with that. Did you like always being a bottom when you were with him? Did you feel comfortable?”

Roger shook his head. “At first, maybe? I don’t know. I didn’t like that I had to be that every single time. I mean, I would’ve liked to experiment a little, and uhh… be a top I suppose.”

Freddie nodded in understanding. “It’s normal to want to experiment with sex. That’s what makes it so much fun, darling.”

The drummer looked down at his slender fingers and absentmindedly scratched at his forehead in thought. “It’s not fun, though… I mean, with guys, at least.”

“Every guy? You told us you’ve only had sex with David,” Freddie asked, now a bit confused.

“No,” Roger sighed, not a fan of talking about this anymore. “I mean, right. He’s the only guy I _have_ had sex with, but it’s not fun with him.”

Freddie nodded now, realizing what Roger meant. “Ah, well… one guy is not every guy. If you really are attracted to them, then you’ll realize how much fun sex can actually be with them. Just because it wasn’t fun with David, definitely doesn’t mean it won’t be fun with other men, darling.”

Roger relaxed a little now, breathing a silent sigh of relief. He nodded, glad he could get some verification. He had been afraid that the sex with David would be like it was with all guys.

“Sex with one woman isn’t like it is with others, is it?” Roger shook his head and Freddie smiled. “Exactly, Rog. You mustn’t think too much about this, dear. Men aren’t so different from women and vice versa. It’s all about what a person likes or dislikes, and both sides should it into account.”

The blonde nodded now and smiled weakly. “Right. Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Do you want to know any other things?”

Roger thought for a minute but couldn’t think of other questions to ask. He shook his head. “No, thanks, Freddie. You really helped me.”

“I’m so glad I could be of service, darling.”  Freddie smiled and stood up, motioning for Roger to go out first.

When they both left the bedroom, Roger could hear John and Brian arguing in the kitchen.

“What on earth is all the yelling about?” Freddie asked when they saw them.

Brian looked over at Freddie. “Did _you_ eat the soup? I was going to have some more lunch. I already asked John but he insists that he didn’t eat it so it must have been either you or Rog.”

Freddie looked aghast. “Why would eat that dreadful soup! I don’t even like vegetarian food…”

“Right, so you threw it out then,” Brian said matter-of-factly.

“No! Of course I didn’t throw it out!” Freddie rolled his eyes as he started to make tea. “With how we spend money like poor children on groceries, you really think I would waste food around here?”

Brian sighed, growing impatient, now turning his attention to the drummer. “Rog, you ate it, yeah? You had the entire bowl because… you were hungry and you were desperate…”

Roger felt his stomach twist as he remembered what he did with it. He _had_ been really hungry and desperate, but he also didn’t want to be called a pig for eating all of it. He shook his head and followed Freddie over to help make the tea, wanting some as well.

Brian threw his arms up. “This is ridiculous! I didn’t eat it! One of you _must_ have eaten it and forgotten you did, or… I don’t know. Roger, are you sure you didn’t eat it? Please, I feel like I’m losing my mind here.”

The blonde thought about admitting that he did, but he remembered David’s reaction whenever he ate any leftovers.

_“I can’t believe you ate the rest of it! That was so much food, Roger! You’re so disgusting and fat.”_

Roger shook his head again. “I didn’t eat it,” he lied. “You’re the only one who likes to eat sawdust and faux meat around here.”

Brian sighed and looked at John. “You sometimes eat my food and like it, John. Are you positive –"

John sighed heavily, shaking his head. “No, oh my god, no! I told you only a hundred times earlier I didn’t eat it!”

Freddie plopped teabags into two cups. “Relax, Brian. It was on its last legs anyway. Next gig we have we’ll use the money to do some shopping.”

Brian rubbing his temples where a headache was forming but decided to forget about the missing soup. “We need the money to pay the rent. We won’t have much left to pay rent with.”

“Don’t worry, darling,” Freddie shook his head. “We’ll figure out something.  Now, onto more important matters! What shall we do today?”

“Obviously you have something in mind, Fred?” John asked softly.

“I was thinking we’d practice here or awhile during the day, and then we could go out for drinks this evening.”

Roger tensed and then remembered that he was allowed to go out again. He was back home with Queen. He was allowed to do what he wanted, when he wanted. Then he tensed up again at the thought of practicing.

That was going to prove impossible.

Brian looked over at John who shrugged and nodded before looking over at Roger who was no longer looking at them, but seemingly spacing out. “What do you think, Rog? Roger… Rog!”

Freddie gently tapped the drummer on his shoulder before he pointed over to Brian. Roger looked at his friend, feeling embarrassed that he hadn’t even heard him. He swallowed hard.

“S-Sorry… I umm… I didn’t hear you…”

Brian saw the drummer’s anxiety and calmed down before he looked at him patiently. “It’s okay, Roger. Did you want to go out for drinks too later?”

Roger nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

“It’s settled then,” Freddie grinned excitedly. “Practice time!”

Roger reluctantly helped them set up the equipment and grabbed his tea before he sat down at his seat behind his drum kit. This was literally the last thing he wanted to do and worse yet, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.

“So… uhh… how do you want to do this?” John asked hesitantly, looking from Roger to the other two bandmates.

Brian honestly wasn’t sure what to do in this situation so he looked at Freddie for answers.

The singer grabbed the mic out of the stand and looked at them. “Let’s do a run through with one song or now and see how it goes. Then we’ll figure it out from there. Let’s do ‘Fight From The Inside’. We’ll be able to tell Roger’s drumming and singing from that one well enough.”

Everyone nodded, figuring that made enough sense.

Roger felt like he had water plugging up his right ear as he listened for the cue, and as soon as they started, he knew his timing was off. He tried to make up the time, listening for John’s bass and Brian’s guitar, and tried to sing all at the same time but he just couldn’t do it.

“All right, stop!” Freddie shouted over the noise.

Roger didn’t hear him. He didn’t even know they had stopped until he saw Brian’s hand wave in front of his face. He finally stopped and looked between them, looks of dread spread across their faces. He angrily hit the cymbals with his drumsticks.

“Shit! This is absolute bollocks!” Roger impatiently yelled in frustration.

Brian was looking worriedly at his friend. “We just need to figure something out. We don’t know what you’re hearing anymore, Rog. Tell us what you heard when you first started playing.”

The drummer sighed. “I don’t know. John’s bass and your guitar, I guess. I was trying to listen for the opening first, and then it automatically goes to me to start the one, two beats, and then I have to sing… t-that’s too much for me! I can’t bloody do it all when I can’t even fucking hear properly!”

Freddie looked uneasy, unsure what to say. Brian gave him a patient smile. “Hey, it’s fine. It’s all right. We’ll just practice a different song, that’s all. One that isn’t so reliant on you to do everything, okay?”

Roger sighed, shaking his head as he clenched his jaw. “That’s one of our most popular songs. We can’t just… never play it again.”

John and Freddie both looked anxious, knowing that the man was right.

“We can practice it again some other time,” Brian replied. “Let’s try a slower song. Don’t focus on the singing parts this time, Roger. Freddie can do it.”

The singer turned to look at them. “Killer Queen? That’s a relatively slow song.”

The other men nodded and hummed in agreement.

“Excellent, all right, then. Let’s do this.” Freddie started snapping his fingers before he started the intro and started singing before he pointed to Roger, trying something new to help cue him.

Roger couldn’t hear the snapping and vaguely heard Freddie’s singing with his back turned but he started drumming when he saw the singer point over to him. This seemed to be a much easier song for Roger; the beat was slower, and he could tell when the other two did their parts. He tried to focus on his own parts though, watching as Freddie pointed to him when he had particularly long parts.

When he drummed out the ending, the men all turned to each other. John was smiling and Brian looked somewhat impressed.

“That was a lot better, don’t you think?”

Freddie nodded in agreement. “It was, darling. Good job, Roger…”

The drummer wanted to feel proud of himself but he just couldn’t bring himself to be, not when Freddie had had to point to him to help cue him in. He couldn’t do that during the gig. It would be utterly ridiculous. The thought made him feel more frustrated.

He just shrugged and shook his head.

“Let’s do one more,” Freddie suggested. “’Fat Bottomed Girls?’”

The others looked at Roger who reluctantly nodding and then Freddie began to sing the intro part without the other two men. The blonde looked over and saw Brian playing his part, and waited about thirty seconds before he started his one beat on the drums, trying to keep even timed with Freddie’s singing.

By the time they had finished the song, it was clear that they needed a lot more work. They needed to figure out a way where they didn’t have to depend on Freddie’s point cues for Roger. The song sounded jumbled and uneven.

He swallowed hard, feeling the tension in the room as they all took water breaks. He slammed his sticks down hard before he stood up and grabbed his cigarettes before he stormed out of the flat, placing one between his lips and lit it.

Roger took a long drag from it before he exhaled, looking down. He was officially worthless. The only decent thing he could ever do was drum and he had drummed pretty well for a while in Queen but now it was apparent that his drumming days were over. He took another drag, feeling tears in his eyes and jumped when he suddenly saw Brian outside with him.

He hadn’t even heard the guitarist open the door.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized sincerely, watching his friend with a worried look.

“It’s fine,” Roger shrugged. He sighed and then suddenly looked at Brian. “Actually, it’s not fine. None of this is fine! What the hell use am I if I can’t even play?”

Brian searched his friend’s eyes. “Roger, there’s more to life than drumming, but we’ll figure something out. Freddie’s cues seemed to help you earlier.”

“Yeah, but obviously we can’t do that during a gig, can we? You just have to find someone else.”

The guitarist shook his head. “We don’t want anyone else, Rog. We want you. We trust you.”

“Fat lot good I am… I can’t even keep up with the timing! I’m either too slow or too fast. This isn’t going to work, Bri! This is useless and you know how shit I sound! Queen isn’t going anywhere with a half-deaf drummer!”

Brian placed a gentle hand on his shoulder in an attempt to try and calm him. “This isn’t the end of the world. We can try hearing aids…”

“Oh yeah,” Roger scoffed. “The hearing aids that are crap anyway!”

Brian gave a helpless shrug. “Even if they are crap, you’ll still be able to hear _something_ out of your right ear. Isn’t that better than nothing at all?”

The drummer knew he had a point, and reluctantly nodded. He didn’t want to fuck around with a hearing aid though, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized what a valid point Brian had; it really would be better than hearing nothing, even if it was just a tiny bit better, maybe that meant that Roger could play better as well.

“We can’t afford it,” Roger said, giving a pitiful excuse.

Brian gave him a warm smile. “Don’t worry about it, Rog. We’ll figure out something. You’re worth the money anyway. Once we start doing better gigs in bigger places, money won’t be an issue anymore.”

The other man nodded in agreement. He still felt depressed about being a half-deaf drummer though. He took another drag of his cigarette before he put it out. He grew quiet, getting lost in his thoughts.

“Hey,” Brian spoke suddenly, making sure his friend could hear him. “Let’s go change your bandages. I want to see how they look today, okay?”

Roger nodded and then led them back inside before heading for the bathroom. Brian collected up the supplies and placed them on the sink before positioning Roger off to the side so he had room to work.

“Good, all right. Shirt off, please.”

The drummer took off his shirt, forgetting the cuts he had on his forearm and quickly pressed it against his body so Brian wouldn’t see it. He felt the coldness of the rubbing alcohol against his skin as Brian dabbed the cotton. “How do they look?”

Brian eyed the long scratches carefully as he worked, starting to apply more antiseptic cream to them. “They’re not as inflamed as they were yesterday. They don’t look infected either, so that’s good.”

“Yeah, good,” Roger agreed, nodding.

“Brian? Roger?” called Freddie from the hallway.

“In here!” Brian called back out to him. “We’re in the bathroom.”

Not a minute later, Freddie came trouncing into the room and looked from Roger to Brian. “Oh, you’re taking care of him. Well, I suppose it can wait.”

Brian shrugged, placing the bandages over the scratches. “No, Fred, it’s all right. We’re just about done. What’s up?”

“Well, I was talking to John about where we should go for drinks tonight. I was thinking of the Golden Lion, if you don’t mind…”

Brian raised his eyebrows. “Ah, you want to go to a gay club,” he finished bandaging Roger back up and motioned that he could put his shirt back on again. “What did John say?”

“Well, he seemed unsure at first, but I believe he’s all right with going,” Freddie answered. “Roger? How do you feel about it?”

The drummer had never been to a gay club before, having only done his sexual exploration with one guy, David, and he had met him at one of their gigs. Maybe this was his chance to figure things out a little bit more. Maybe he would get to feel what actual consensual sex felt like.

The thought made Roger eager to go now. He nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good to me. I think I’d like to go.”

Freddie grinned almost proudly before he looked at Brian hopefully. “Well….?”

Brian shooed them all out of the bathroom now so they weren’t so cramped together in a small place and turned to look at Freddie out in the living room. “As long as everyone else is on board, I’ll go with as well.”

Freddie’s eyes lit up again. “ _Finally_ I don’t have to go all by myself! Okay, let’s go get ready then and you can drive us!”

Brian shook his head. “Nope, not this time. I’m sick of being the designated driver, Fred. If I’m being dragged to this place, then I think I need a drink or four in me as well.”

“Even better!” Freddie clapped his hands in excitement. “I’m off to shower!”

“I have dibs next,” Roger declared.

“I’m off to go get changed,” John replied as he walked down the hall.

Brian waited until the two musicians were gone before he looked at Roger. “Did you get the answers you were looking for from Freddie?” He asked gently.

Roger gave him a small smile and nodded. “Yeah, yeah. He was actually really helpful, and you were too, of course. Thanks again, Brian.”

The guitarist shook his head. “I don’t know how much help I was. I knew that Freddie would be able to help you more, though. I’m glad he was able to, Rog. Things are more cleared up for you, then?”

The drummer nodded confidently. “Yes, for sure.”

“Good,” Brian bit his lip before he looked at Roger. “I think I had an idea, to help you with your cues, if you’re open to it.”

Roger sighed, not wanting to think about drumming anymore. “What is it?”

“You know that time when we went to Freddie’s place and Mary’s father was there? She was signing to him in sign language so they could communicate. I was thinking maybe something like that might work for you?”

Roger considered this. “Umm… maybe? We’d have to make sure it wouldn’t be something too obvious. If anyone found out about a half-deaf drummer in a rock band, I’d be laughed out of London.”

Brian gave a sympathetic smile. “I don’t think that’s true, but I’ll do some more research into it. Maybe Freddie can reach out to her and see. Would that be okay with you?”

Only having Mary knowing about it didn’t seem too bad. She had a deaf father anyway, so it’s not like she would laugh at him or anything.

Roger nodded, feeling like a weight was being lifted off his shoulders. “Y-Yeah, that’d be good, I think. Cheers.”

Brian smiled. “Come on, mate. Let’s go get ready. It’s your turn to shower.”


	6. 180°

**.    .    .**

Roger was eager to leave after he pulled on some going-out clothes and fixed his hair, hoping the bandages on his back didn’t look too bad in case he got into a situation where someone else might see them. He also hoped that it wouldn’t scare them away either.

He hadn’t told Brian or Freddie what his plan was for tonight, and he didn’t want either of them to know. Tonight was for Roger, and him alone. No one else needed to know about it; he needed to figure out if he actually was into men or if he had just let himself be gas lit by David initially to make himself believe that he was into guys as well as women.

“Roger! Are you ready, darling?” Freddie called from the living room.

The drummer took a deep breath and grabbed some condoms from his beside drawer quickly before shoving them in his pocket and headed out to where the rest of the guys were, already in their night-out best.

“I swear you take longer to get ready than I do, Rog,” the singer complained teasingly as he led them out towards the street to find a cab.

Once they had all climbed into one and told the driver where to go, they sat in a comfortable silence on the way there. Roger was probably the only one feeling especially nervous about this adventure. He knew how it could be dangerous to pick random guys up, even in a public club, but he knew he needed to do this, risk be damned.

Brian must have noticed how uncharacteristically quiet he was because he locked eyes with him. “All right?”

The drummer nodded, giving a weak smile. “Yeah, just a bit nervous, is all.”

Brian gave a warm smile. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fun. If nothing else, it’ll be different for us.”

“You can say that again,” John chuckled.

Freddie shook his head. “You’re all absolute bores! My clubs are plenty more exciting and fun than all your straight ones, I assure you. Just for one night, don’t think that you’re going to a gay club. It’s a different one.”

The other men nodded in acknowledgement and Freddie nonchalantly winked at Roger with a small smile. Roger felt like he was a part of Freddie’s secret club, even though he wasn’t completely gay. The singer made him feel more than welcome, anyway.

Once they got there, Roger needed a smoke to calm his nerves. He watched as Freddie was the first to bounce inside and then Brian, leaving Deaky the last one. He cleared his throat to get his attention.

“John, do you mind staying out here with me for a few minutes?”

“Oh,” the bassist shook his head, seeing his friend standing away from the door as he lit his cigarette. “Sure, no problem.”

“Cheers,” Roger took a deep drag before he held the smoke in his lungs before exhaling. “I-I’m… thinking of experimenting a bit in there.”  He knew he had promised himself he wouldn’t tell any of them, but he felt like he should tell _someone_ in case something went wrong or something bad happened to him.

John looked a bit surprised. “Really? Do you think that’s smart?”

“Sure, why not?”

He bassist shrugged. “You don’t know any of these people, Rog. They’re complete strangers and you don’t know how any of them are going to act when you proposition them.” The younger man eyed the drummer with cautious eyes.

Roger knew John had a good point, but he wasn’t going to let it stop him from doing what he came here to do. If he didn’t experiment again now, he didn’t think he’d ever do it. He took another drag. “Don’t worry, Deaky. I’ll be careful. I just wanted you to know, just in case…”

“You mean, just in case this goes tits up and you get yourself in trouble?”

Roger nodded, smirking slightly. “Yeah, exactly.”

The other man sighed, clearly feeling uneasy with their plan. “Do you want me to keep an eye on you and follow you near wherever you are? I mean, not go inside or anything but… just stay close?”

The idea made Roger feel a bit better about what he was going to do. He nodded and searched his face. “Y-Yeah, I think that’d be good, if you don’t mind?”

John nodded. “Sure. I can do that.”

“Thanks, Deaky,” Roger smiled softly. He could still tell by John’s face that he wasn’t comfortable with the drummer doing this but at least he’d have backup if something bad happened. John just nodded again in acknowledgement.

“All right, I’m done. Let’s go inside, shall we?” Roger put his cigarette out and led John inside the dimly lit club.

He looked around to see where Freddie and Brian had gotten to but couldn’t see them in the sea of people who were dancing and drinking. He even saw people in the darker corners making out. Roger took a deep breath and led John towards the bar.

“Let’s get some drinks!” He shouted to him over the music. They didn’t have very long to wait before they told the bartender their orders and were given two pints.

John immediately started to down the drink, Roger not far behind him. Once he had finished it, Roger felt a little more at ease.

“Do you want to dance, Deaky?”

The bassist chuckled. “I’m going to need a few more of these for that. Go on, Rog! Enjoy yourself! I’ll keep an eye on you…”

Roger nodded and smiled before he made his way through the crowd and started to dance to the beat of the music, now seeing Brian and Freddie off in a booth, also having a couple pints. When they saw him, the laughed and gave their friend a thumbs up.

The drummer chuckled, starting to feel like he was having a good time. He was a couple sounds into dancing when a man who was standing near the bar suddenly caught his eye. He was tall with shoulder length brown hair and bright blue eyes. He made his way back over to the bar and felt nervous as he strolled up to him, trying to make it look as casual as possible.

He felt the man’s eyes look him up and down.

“Hey, there… haven’t seen you here before,” the gentleman noted.

Roger turned to him and smiled sheepishly, but tried to force himself to appear confident. “It’s my first time coming here. Roger Taylor,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

The man’s eyes suddenly widened and he heard him laughing almost in disbelief. “Roger Taylor, the drummer of Queen,” he spoke, not asking a question. When Roger nodded, the man shook his head gently. “Peter, of no band.”

Roger chuckled, feeling like he got lucky that someone actually recognized him. He leaned in closer. “It’s nice to meet you, Peter of no band,” he teased jokingly. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Peter laughed again and nodded. “No, please. Let me buy _you_ a drink, Roger.” Before he could insist, the taller man requested two whiskeys and gave one to the blonde.

“Cheers,” Roger said thankfully. Hard liquor was what he definitely needed now, although he felt a lot more relaxed to be known to this man. “So you like Queen, then?”

Peter nodded as he took a swig of whiskey. “Yes, I do… I love your music, actually. All the songs, really… they’re brilliant. What are you doing in here? I didn’t know you were… gay.”

The drummer shrugged as he took a long drink of his own whiskey. “More on a sexual exploration than anything else, I suppose. I mean, I’m into women for sure, but… I wanted to… test the waters.” He gave Peter a cheeky smirk.

The man smirked back and nodded in understanding. “Let me guess, Roger. You’re choosing me to help you with that exploration?”

The drummer shrugged, smiling. “Only if you’re willing. I gotta warn you, I’m not the most experienced or anything, mate.”

“Oooh, a challenge! Well, I do like helping others to figure out their likes and dislikes… would you like to go somewhere more private, Roger?” Peter asked, finishing his whiskey in one gulp and setting it back down on the bar counter.

Roger nodded eagerly and took a sip of his drink before he took it and followed Peter through the dance floor to the other side and out a door. At first he thought that they were outside until he realized it was an empty hallway with neon lights across the ceiling, the sound of the music still clearly heard but not as loud anymore.

As soon as they got some privacy, Peter started to passionately kiss Roger’s lips almost hungrily, his hands finding the drummer’s waist and holding him close. Roger kissed him back, feeling sparks flying around inside of him.

To say he was enjoying their make out session was an understatement. Even though Peter’s kisses were hungry and eager, they weren’t unpleasant and rough, like David’s always had been.

When they casually pulled away, Peter was smiling and then he suddenly took out a vial of something white. “So, no pressure or anything, Roger, but I happen to have something here that will make this a thousand times better… would you care for some?”

The drummer looked at the vial and knew instantly what it was. He hadn’t ever done it before but he wasn’t sure how bad the pain would be from this. All he had to go on were his experiences with David and the rough sex they had. He was up for anything that would make him feel better.

He nodded. “Y-Yeah, sure. Thanks…” Peter scooped a small amount with the miniature spoon and handed it to Roger before he watched the drummer snort it up into his nose.

Roger felt the high almost instantly and sniffed to make sure he got it all. He waited until Peter did some as well before he attacked his lips again, slipping his hands under Peter’s shirt, feeling a lot more confident now.

He felt a surge of energy as they made out and did some heavy petting before he saw the other man look at him, out of breath. “H-How do you want to do this…?”

Roger honestly didn’t know. Did he want to be a top or bottom? He thought back to what Freddie had told him before. Considering how tall Peter was, it seemed like it made sense for Roger to be the bottom.

He looked at him with hesitant eyes, unsure what to expect from him. “I-I want you behind me,” he said awkwardly.

Peter gave him a small, reassuring smile before he nodded, pulling off his shirt before he tugged Roger’s off as well. “Can you turn around for me then, beautiful?”

Roger smirked at the pet name, never having heard it out of David’s own mouth. He nodded and then turned around so was close to the wall, feeling Peter’s fingers fumbling for Roger’s belt.

“O-Oh, umm… wait,” he felt the other man take his hands off of him surprisingly, perhaps thinking that the drummer had changed his mind about the encounter. He grabbed a condom out of his pocket and handed it to him before he let his pants drop.

“Ah, lovely,” Peter chuckled as he took down his own pants. “Nice to see you’ve come prepared.”

Roger wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not but he heard the sound of the package opening and relaxed a little. He then felt Peter spread his legs apart some. “All right, try and relax now. I’m just going to help make this less painful for you.”

“O-Okay, go ahead.” He felt something cool enter him and knew it must be saliva on fingers, he flinched a little in surprise but forced himself to relax at the odd sensation.

“All right, Roger?”

“Y-Yeah, sorry… I’m fine.” The drummer felt like he was overheating, but that was probably just the cocaine.

“All right, let me know if it becomes too much,” Peter offered.

Roger felt a familiar object enter him but it didn’t hurt. He turned his head as he held himself up against the wall. He felt Peter’s arm wrap around him and then felt him start to thrust into his body. The drummer grunted but started moaning almost right away, feeling no pain at all.

“Is that good, baby?” Peter moaned into his skin.

Roger moaned, holding onto the man as he felt his pleasure building up inside of him. “Fuck…. It is… d-don’t stop, Peter…”

“Don’t worry, love…” He felt him thrust a little faster and harder into him, but it wasn’t painful. He already felt so fucking close. Roger gripped in tighter.

They kept at it for several minutes until Roger couldn’t hold it back any longer. “Fuck! I-I’m gonna –“

He heard Peter grunt loudly behind him as he felt a warmth explode into him at the same he came as well. He put a hand out hard against the wall, trying to hold himself up as his legs became jelly from his orgasm, an orgasm he had never felt before.

“Oh god!” Roger moaned, chuckling in ecstasy. He heard Peter snickering too and heard him pull his pants back up. The drummer weakly started to do the same, attempting to catch his breath again as stars flittered in front of his eyes.

“Seemed like it was good for you…” Peter smirked as he got dressed again.

Roger nodded, a grin on his face. “Fuck… it was… amazing. Thank you, Peter.”

“It was my pleasure, Mr. Taylor…”

“Was it… was it good for you too?” Roger asked, trying to be serious again.

“It was, thank you,” Peter’s smile suddenly grew into a look of concern he had only seen on his bandmates’ faces, and he already dreaded what was to come. “Mind if I ask you what happened? To your back, I mean?”

Roger’s stomach dropped but after their encounter, he felt like he owed the man that much, at least. “Uhh, no. It’s fine,” he tried quickly to think of a lie but he was having difficulty lying on the spot. “Just… a bad breakup.”

Peter now nodded in understanding. “I’m sorry to hear that, Roger. I hope you find someone new that treats you better.”

Roger put his shirt back on and put himself back together again before he looked at Peter and nodded. “Thanks, mate. Don’t suppose you’re on the market for someone?” He didn’t know where that courage had come from to ask such a question but he found that he didn’t regret it.

Peter chuckled and shrugged. “Not yet. I prefer to have a little fun first before I get into anything serious. I have to say, though, it was an honor to be able to fuck a member of Queen, and I mean that seriously.”

Roger laughed softly now and ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks, really. I’m really glad I didn’t choose a total tosser to be my… first. I had a good time. It really was amazing.”

“I had a nice time as well, Roger. I hope to see you around.” Peter smiled and waved before he headed back into the club area.

The drummer couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He composed himself before he took a shaky breath and headed back in as well, nearly jumping when he suddenly heard John’s voice.

“You all right, Rog?”

Roger turned around quickly and smirked. “I am, thank you, Deaky. Did you hear anything?”

“Oh, you mean besides this annoying loud music? No! Not a thing,” he chuckled. “Are you done now or are you still on the prowl?”

“No,” Roger shook his head. “I think I’m good for tonight. Where are the others? I want to get Brian shitfaced!”

John laughed and started leading him over to the booth where Roger had seen the two men earlier. “I don’t think you’re going to have a difficult time doing that.”

Roger slid into the booth next to Brian who scooted over and looked in the middle of the table to see several glasses. He looked over at Freddie who was clearly enjoying himself but didn’t look too drunk. He laughed.

“Are these all his?” Roger asked in disbelief, pointing to Brian who was just finishing another pint glass.

Freddie nodded. “Oh yes, dear.  I’m sorry to say he’s drinking me under the table! I believe he’s on his sixth or seventh pint now. Wait a minute, where’ve you been for the past half hour?”

The drummer felt the heat rise in his cheeks. Was that embarrassment or just post-orgasm bliss? Either way, he knew his skin was flushed and hoped it wasn’t too obvious. He could still feel the high from the coke too and felt like got a second wind.

“That’s not as important as the history you all are making here right now with Brian,” Roger joked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wasted before. I’m glad he’s not driving us home tonight!”

“That makes two of us,” John nodded.

“Three, darling.”

The blonde had even more difficulty hearing his friends in the loud club and nodded or shook his head half the time when he wasn’t entirely sure what was being said. If it wasn’t for the coke, he knew he’d be depressed as hell right now, focusing on how worthless he was without his hearing.

The guys had a few more drinks and sang and talked and danced until the early morning hours when they decided it was time to go back home. The three men helped Brian into a cab and let it drive them back to their flat. Roger felt Brian lean against him tiredly, but didn’t feel all that tired at all surprisingly. He still felt wired, or maybe he was still high. Either way, he knew the crash wasn’t going to be pleasant. He looked around at the others who were half asleep on each other as well.

When they finally arrived home around 3 a.m., the men helped Brian to bed first before Roger helped John and Freddie to bed before he climbed into Brian’s bed, putting his back against the guitarist’s, finally feeling his body crashing at this point as he fell asleep.

 

**………… … ……….. …  …………..**

 

He woke up the next morning thinking about his encounter last night with Peter, and couldn’t help but smile to himself. It had been so nice, so different than how it had been with David. He had felt euphoric, but maybe that was because of the coke? Had that maybe enhanced everything he had felt?

He didn’t know, but he also didn’t want to let it ruin the wonderful experience he had had last night. Roger looked over at Brian to see him still sleeping. He bit his lip, half wishing he could talk to him about it. Maybe his friend could even give him some advice for next time.

He didn’t want to disturb him, though, so he stood up quietly and crept to the bathroom before grabbing a couple aspirin and then going into the kitchen and getting a glass of water. He brought both things back to Brian’s room and set them on the table, within sight before he carefully crept back out again, closing the door.

Roger walked out to the kitchen and started the coffee, surprising to see John on laying on the couch. He couldn’t tell if the other man was sleeping or not though, so he was quiet as he walked over there and then knelt down.

“Deaky?” He asked quietly.

“Mmm?” the bassist hummed, turning his head to look at his friend.

“Sorry,” Roger apologized. “I didn’t know you were sleeping.”

John shook his head and turned over on his side so he was facing Roger with his whole body, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “No, no. It’s fine. I’ve been awake for a while, I just wanted to rest my eyes. You’re up early.”

The drummer sat on the floor in front of him, nodding. “Yeah, just couldn’t sleep anymore, I guess. Why are you out here and not with Freddie?”

“He’s such a tosser and turner in bed that it’s ridiculous,” John chuckled. “I’ve never met anyone in my life who moved around so much in bed. So I came out here to sleep. Did you make coffee?”

“Yeah, just started it,” he reached over and grabbed his package of cigarettes from off the coffee table and placed one between his lips before lighting it.

“What was it like last night?” John whispered to him.

“What, the sex?”

The bassist nodded and searched his friend’s eyes. “Are you high?” He asked suddenly.

“What? No… not anymore.”

John moved in closer to look at Roger’s eyes. “Your pupils are huge. What did you take?”

“My friend last night offered a little bit of coke so I did that,” Roger shrugged. “Do you want to hear this story or not?”

John tensed a little but nodded. “Yeah, fine. Tell me about it.”

“All right, so… I met him at the bar, his name was Peter and he was… very nice, a gentleman even. He was pretty laid back and we did it. We had sex.”

John nodded. “And you liked it?”

Roger felt himself blushing again. “Y-Yeah, I did. It was... fuck, Deaky, it was so amazing. I’ve never felt that way before when I was with David. With a woman, yeah, but not with a guy.”

“So you know what you are now?” It wasn’t a judging question, not in the least. It was one friend genuinely wanting to know about his own friend.

Roger thought for a moment and took a drag from the cigarette before he exhaled through his nose. “Yeah, I do. I’m bisexual… god, that’s so weird to say. I mean, I love women… in every sense of the word, but… I also love being with men, so… I’m stuck in the middle, I suppose. Do you think it’s normal, Deaky?”

“Do I think what’s normal?”

Roger shrugged. “To be the way… I am?”

The bassist looked like he was trying to choose his words carefully. He wet his lips. “I think it’s normal for all of us, because of Freddie. I don’t think the others are going to judge you for it, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s probably still not normal… out there, not yet anyway.”

“Do you think it ever will be one day?”

John shrugged. “Maybe. I hope so, for your and Freddie’s sakes.”

Roger smiled softly. “Me too.”

The two men talked for about an hour over coffee when Freddie finally came out of his room, sitting down at the kitchen table and putting his head in his hands.

“Aargh, one of you be a dear and please murder me right now,” the singer begged.

John and Roger both chuckled before they both stood up and walked over to Freddie. Roger gently caressed Freddie’s shoulder and John ran into the bathroom and grabbed aspirin and a cup of coffee for the singer before placing both in front of him and sitting down.

“Oh, thank you so much, darling. How on earth are you two up so goddamn early?”

Roger sat down on Freddie’s other side before he lit up his third cigarette. “It’s almost noon, Fred. Did you happen to see if Bri was up yet?”

The singer chuckled and swallowed the painkillers down with the coffee gratefully. “I doubt he’ll be up for a while, Rog. We might want to plan the day without him. We need to practice again.”

The drummer shook his head before he glared at Freddie. “No, I’m not bloody practicing again. I just can’t right now. Let us at least have a day off to recuperate!”

Freddie sighed, thumbing his temples again. “Fine, fine. Just… stop yelling please, darling.”

Roger finished his coffee and took another drag before he stood up and walked over to Brian’s room again, closing the door behind him. He finished off his cigarette before putting it out in an ashtray nearby and got back into bed with Brian.

He started writing things into Brian’s back with his finger lightly.

_Hello._

_Are you awake?_

Brian groaned softly, feeling nausea wash over him suddenly. He jumped up and ran into the bathroom, just in time before he was able to empty his stomach into the toilet. Roger followed him a few moments later, closing the bathroom door to give them some privacy. The drummer held Brian’s hair back as the guitarist suddenly threw up again.

Brian wiped his face and sat against the wall, out of breath to relax. “Thanks…”

Roger watched him. “You had a good time last night.”

“Yeah, I must have. How much did I drink? I lost count after my fifth pint.” Brian rubbed his face.

“We think about six or seven pints,” the drummer answered softly before he looked down at his fingers.

It was now when Brian noticed Roger’s behavior and he gently hit the blonde’s arm to get his attention. “Hey, you all right?”

The drummer nodded, finally looking up at him. “Yeah, great, actually. I umm… I wanted to tell you about what I did last night.”

The older man gave him a fearful look, searching his face. “Uh oh. What’d you do, Rog?”

“I uhh… I had sex with someone at the club,” the drummer shrugged.

Brian’s eyes rose in surprise. “You had sex… with who? When?”

“His name was Peter, while you all were getting shitfaced in the booth. He bought me a drink at the bar and we… moved somewhere else and… we had sex.”

Brian stiffened and sat up straighter to look at Roger, slowly scooting towards him before he noticed his eyes. Now his brows knitted. “You’re high right now! I can’t believe it. Are you serious?”

Roger groaned in frustration. “You and John both, fucking Christ. Can that _not_ be the topic at hand right now, please? I’m trying to tell you about something I did for the first time since David.”

The other man seemed to relax a little but Roger knew that wasn’t going to slide for long. He looked at Roger with serious eyes. “Right, fine. So… you actually wanted to have sex with this… Peter, then? You were consenting?”

Roger nodded, biting his lip. “Yes, I was.”

“How was it?”

“It was amazing, Bri,” Roger said sincerely. “I mean… I had a lot of fun, and it felt so… so fucking incredible! I didn’t know I could feel that way.”

A small smile came across his friend’s face now. “I’m glad. I’m happy for you, Rog. He didn’t hurt you at all or anything?”

“No, no. He was so nice, and sweet… and just… amazing, really.”

“That’s really good, Roger,” Brian nodded, smiling more, and then a worried look came across his face. “Did he… ask about your bandages?”

Roger thought back to last night and shrugged. “He asked but he was nice about it, and I just told him it was from a bad breakup, and he didn’t ask any more questions. He was cool about it. Hey, do you think maybe he knew David?”

The thought hadn’t crossed Brian’s mind until his friend just asked it but he shook his head. “I don’t think so. The odds of them knowing each other aren’t great. I wouldn’t worry about it,”

Roger nodded now, satisfied with that answer.

“Umm… how much cocaine did you take?”

The drummer looked up at him. “How did you know it was coke?”

“I have friends who do it too. Your hands are shaking a little, your pupils are pretty large. You seem a bit fidgety. So?”

“It wasn’t that much, barely anything! Just a small spoon size worth.”

Brian nodded now. “All right. Was it Peter who gave it to you?”

Roger sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yes, _mother._ Why can’t you just let me have fun? Why do you always have to spoil it for me?” He stood up suddenly.

The guitarist slowly stood up as well. “Agitation.”

Roger groaned before he shook his head and walked out of the bathroom, and back into his room. He didn’t want to stay here and practice or be preached to by any of them. If he was really honest with himself, he wanted to see Peter again, and maybe dip another finger into more coke. He wanted the feeling back that he had felt from the high, the energy he had felt.

He wanted that back again.

He got dressed and put on shoes before he started for the door.

“Wait, where are you going, Rog?” Brian asked, walking over to him.

Roger didn’t know where he was going. It was too early to go back to the club again, but maybe he could to the local pub and drown himself in drink until it was late enough to go back.

There. He had a plan, and it didn’t include any of them or practicing.

“It doesn’t matter. Just leave me the hell alone,” Roger grabbed his cigarettes and his lighter and then walked out of the house before he stormed towards the pub quickly, still feeling somewhat energetic.

He spent about ten minutes walking there and sat down at the bar before ordering another pint and lit up again. He took a long pull from it, swallowing the bitter liquid, willing it to make him feel better again. Roger knew only one substance could do that though, and he didn’t have any.

He spent about a couple hours sipping pints and smoking until he was just about out of money. He was just leaving his money when he saw Brian walking towards him with an annoyed look on his face. 

“What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here, Rog? You should be back home with us, playing Scrabble and practicing and helping to finish this album.”

The drummer sighed and walked around him to go outside, not wanting to argue with him inside the bar. “I told you to leave me alone!”

Brian quickly hurried after him. “I can’t do that, Rog! Where are you going now?”

Roger continued to walk away, not wanting to talk to him right now. Then he felt Brian’s hand on his back hard, and all he could feel was shooting pain. He turned around sharply now as he yelped in pain and without thinking, he brought his fist back and punched Brian’s face angrily. Red crimson made a trail down the guitarist’s lip and chin now.

“S-Shit… what the fuck?” Roger yelled at him. “What are you doing grabbing me there?! You know what’s still there!”

Brian looked surprised still from being punched by his friend but he put his own hands up in surrender. “I-I’m sorry, Roger. I’m sorry… I forgot in the moment! I just wanted to get your attention. I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“Well you did! So what the hell do you want to say?!” The blonde hated how he had angry tears in his eyes. He didn’t want to cry in front of him right now.

Brian felt like this was all kinds of fucked up right now. He wanted to hit the rewind button to fix this but knew that was impossible. He sighed heavily, not even caring right now that he was bleeding. “Come back to the flat with me, Rog. Please… we can just and talk.”

“I don’t want to talk! To anyone! I just want to be alone right now!” the drummer shouted in irritation, roughly wiping away the tears away from his cheeks.

“Fine!” Brian conceded. “You don’t have to talk. Just stop drinking and come back with me anyway. You can do whatever you want. I’d just feel better if you were back home with us right now. Please,” his voice was pleading.

Roger swallowed hard, shaking his head slowly. He ran a hand through his hair. “I-I’m really sorry I hurt you, Brian –"

“It’s fine, Rog… I know you didn’t mean to. It was my fault anyway. Please…”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t go back with you.  Just leave me alone,” Roger turned around and started walking again, this time not hearing footsteps following him.

How did everything get so messed up? All he wanted to do was to be alone to drink and smoke. Of course Brian couldn’t even let him do that, though. Roger was so sick and tired of hearing about the damned album that he felt like he could throw up. He didn’t want to hear about how he couldn’t play right without fucking cues.

He couldn’t go back there. He needed time away.

Roger took a cab to the club they had gone to last night. He knew it was still a few hours early but he wasn’t worried about killing time. He’d stay there all night if he had to; he just wanted to feel alive again. He wanted to feel everything and nothing at once.

 


	7. adventures in rogerland

**.    .    .**

Roger took a long drag of his cigarette as he sat along in a booth in the corner, watching the other people that were already starting their nights a bit early. He felt pathetic that this was where he had chosen to run to, but it was also the only place he felt accepted right now. At least it was still dark in the club; not many people would recognize him as Queen’s drummer.

The darkness was safer. Always.

He chain smoked his way through five cigarettes when a dark haired man approached him. The first thing Roger noticed was how it wasn’t Peter, and this man looked more like David. He had to do a double take when he approached the drummer’s booth.

He glanced up, knocking the ash off his cigarette before he took another drag. “Can I help you?”

“No offense, mate, but you look like you need more help than I do right now. Maybe _I’m_ the one who can help _you,”_ he offered seductively, leaning over the table.

Roger felt bad vibes coming off this guy, but he honestly didn’t care what happened to him today. He just wanted to escape any way he could, even if it meant escaping into danger. He thought for a moment and nodded silently.

The quick decisiveness of the blonde was obviously something the other man hadn’t anticipated because he looked genuinely surprised before he grinned. He motioned for Roger to follow him, eventually walking into the toilets.

“So what’s your pleasure? I have and do it all, mate.”

_Getting straight down to business, definitely not like Peter._

“Do you have any coke?” He asked softly in case anyone else was in the dirty room.

The guy smirked and took out a small vial of it before he threw it over to Roger who caught it quickly and examined it. He hadn’t expected to receive the whole thing but of course he’d take it. “Cheers.”

He turned to leave when he felt a firm hand quickly reach out and grab his forearm. He turned back.

“Nothing comes for free. You’ll have to pay up one way or another, mate.”

Roger sighed, running a hand through is hair. “Look at me, you know who I am, yeah? You know I’m good for it. I’ll catch you next time.”

The man took a threatening step forward and traced the drummer’s jawline with his fingers. “I don’t deal with all that bollocks. Either pay up or turn around.”

Roger cursed himself for spending most of his money at the last pub. He’d be damned if he was going to call up Brian and have him bring it; he was buying drugs with it, of course the guitarist wouldn’t be cool with paying the drug debt. He reluctantly turned around.

“That’s a good boy,” the man whispered as he moved closer to him, immediately undoing Roger’s belt and then his own. “My, you’re even more beautiful up close, aren’t you?”

Roger felt his heart racing in his ribcage when he felt the man bend him over a little against the sink and then felt a familiar cold wetness inside of him as the guy used saliva for makeshift lube. He tensed a little bit and then felt his other hand run down his body.

“Relax, blondie…”

Roger took a deep breath and forced himself to relax again before he felt himself being thrusted into with more force than he had expected, forcing him to let out a cry. The guy didn’t apologize as he continued to fuck him hard and force him against the mirror roughly.

He groaned in pain and decided he wanted to stop this. Roger tried to push him away but the other man was too strong and pushed him harder against the mirror, breaking it, the glass cutting Roger’s cheek slightly.

Then he felt a warmness spill inside of his body and felt himself be released from the man’s grip. He pulled his pants back up, having gotten absolutely no satisfaction himself, but maybe that was the point. When he looked up again, the other man had disappeared. He fixed himself and then took out the coke before he placed a line along his finger and lined it up before he snorted it off the L of his hand.

He then noticed the broken pieces of glass in the sink and rolled up his sleeve again before he grabbed a small piece and dragged it down his forearm beside the others, making a somewhat crooked pattern to try to stop the numbness he was feeling.

The drummer watched it bleed and covered it back with his sleeve, not seeing any paper towels around.

He sniffed and then pocketed the vial before he walked out and looked around before he walked out of the club, deciding to head to the nearest café and maybe get some coffee. Roger felt used and dirty but at least he had the coke; that had been the main goal of going there anyway. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t Peter’s.

When he finally arrived at the café, he walked into a much cleaner restroom and checked himself out in the mirror. He felt an odd panic come over him, imagining himself being pushed into it as he had fifteen minutes ago. He leaned his arms against the sink and took a deep breath before he looked at the bleeding cut on his face. He washed his face and placed a paper towel on the small wound to help clot the bleeding.

Then grabbed another and rolled up his sleeve to help stop the bleeding on his arm as well. He groaned in frustration when he saw that half of his sleeve was stained with blood but used the paper towel to clot the cuts as well.

When it had finally stopped, he threw the paper towel out and walked out, scooping out a handful of money from his pocket before he ordered a small coffee, and then sat down at a table in the corner. He took out a cigarette and lit it.

He really was living like a rock star now, wasn’t he? He had the sex, the drugs, and the rock and roll.

_What a fucking glamorous life._

He was halfway through his cigarette when he looked up and realized someone had been talking to him. He turned his good ear towards her.

“Sorry?”

It was one of the baristas at the counter, holding another cup of coffee. She gave him a small smile. “You look like you’ve had a tough morning already. It’s on the house.”

Roger was surprised at the gesture but he gave her a thankful smile and nodded. “Cheers.”

The woman smiled back and disappeared back behind the counter. Roger looked down at the coffee. He didn’t deserve something so nice, not like he needed more stimulants either, but he must have really looked awful if he had strangers offering him things.

Roger finished his cigarette before he lit up another, now thinking back to his fight with Brian. He cringed to himself as he remembered punching his best friend, and then felt sick, remembering how forgiving he had been about it.

He hadn’t deserved Brian’s forgiveness either. He didn’t deserve any of them, or anyone’s kindness. What he deserved was to be with David. He felt so angry, thinking about all the pain David had inflicted upon him, including making him half deaf. He was so angry about it, but then why did he believe he deserved it?

_Because he did._

Queen was dead as far as Roger was concerned, and now he had nothing. He’d be replaced, despite what Brian told him. They would have to replace him.

Everything was shit. He felt tears in his eyes as he stood up and walked back into the bathroom and took out the small vial of coke, doing another line off his hand, feeling the rush he was looking for. He sniffed and then wiped his face, seeing that he was crying again. He rubbed his face roughly and ran a hand through his hair.

He didn’t know where to go.

_Fuck._

_David’s or Brian’s._

Normally it wouldn’t even be a hard decision, but also normally, Roger wouldn’t have thought twice about going to David’s flat either.

He swallowed hard, starting to pace as the excess energy spread throughout him. He felt his brain working a mile a minute.

He decided that he would simply go to the other gay clubs he remembered Freddie having told him about after his sleepovers. He had energy he needed to burn off. Maybe he’d see Peter again.

 _Did he want to see him again?_ So far he had been the only nice man he had found.

Roger grabbed a cab and ordered the cabbie to take him to The Dog and Trumpet in Soho. He didn’t know what had made him remember that bar; maybe because it had such a bizarre name. When he arrived there, he could hear the music from the outside and felt his stomach twist in knots.

He didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. He just didn’t want to be alone, but he also didn’t think he could look Brian in the eye.

He took a deep breath and finally entered the club, surprised to see it so full in the afternoon. He looked around at the large crowd as people danced and drank; it was like it was already the evening. Roger started dancing now too, expelling all the pent up energy he had.

He didn’t even know how long he had danced for when he felt a tap on his shoulder. When he turned around, sweat dripping down his face, he felt his heart sink when he came face to face with David. He took a step back, accidentally bumping into someone else.

“H-How’d you know I was here?” Roger asked him in surprise.

David smirked. “Roger, Roger… I keep tabs on you! I know where you and I have eyes and ears everywhere, silly. You mean a lot to me! You think I wouldn’t want to keep you protected? I’m so glad you’re safe!”

Roger looked around, still feel mystified and swallowed hard. Who had told him about Roger? Had it been Peter? Or the guy in the toilets in the last club? Or was it someone he didn’t even know? The thought of not knowing terrified him.  He couldn’t trust anyone.

He shook his head now. “Get away from me! Get the fuck away!” Roger yelled angrily at him.

David grabbed his arm and shoved him towards the toilets before he looked around and turned on the drummer.

“That’s no way to treat your lover, is it, Roger?”

Roger let out a laugh of disbelief. “You threw me against a bloody wall and damaged my hearing! You’re the reason now why I’ll have to quit Queen!”

David shook his head. “No, Roger. That was your own fault! You made me do that! I didn’t even want to but it was the only way I could get you to listen to me. Now come on, Roger… let’s go back home.”

The blonde shook his head and took a step away from him. “G-Go to hell. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Don’t be difficult, Roger…” David took threatening steps over to Roger and then threw him against the tiled wall, making him fall down.

Roger was just looking up when he saw a man enter the bathroom that appeared pretty muscular and taller than David. The man eyed the situation suspiciously before he looked from Roger to David and got in between them.

“Is there a problem here?”

“None that concerns you, mate,” David snapped. “My boyfriend’s drunk,” his voice suddenly changed to worry. “I’m just trying to get him back home…”

The man looked over at Roger who slowly forced himself back up but felt pain in his back where it had hit the wall. His eyes were wide and afraid as he looked over at the man.

“I don’t think that’s the problem here. I think you should get out right now before I get security and have you thrown out.”

David glared at him now before he started walking past Roger but stopped, giving the drummer a dangerous look as well. “I’ll see you around, love.”

The man waited until David left when he turned to Roger slowly and looked him up and down. “Are you all right?”

Roger nodded but still felt a bit fearful. He ran a hand through his hair. “T-Thanks, for that. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I hate seeing these tossers beat up their boyfriends… by the way, I’m Adrian.” He held out his hand.

Roger gratefully shook it. “Roger, but I reckon you already know that.”

“Oh, right! Queen, yeah? To be honest, I wouldn’t have recognized you. I’m sorry…” Adrian apologized.

It almost felt like a relief to not be recognized by someone. He gave a small smile and shook his head. “No, that’s actually nice to hear, I think. Thanks again, for saving me.”

“It’s nothing,” the other man smiled and nodded before he went over to one of the urinals.

Roger took this as his cue to leave but he found himself reluctant as he slowly walked out of the toilets, running a hand through his hair, looking around to make sure David wasn’t nearby. It was so dark in the club though, it was difficult to tell where exactly he was, and he felt trapped. What if David was waiting for him outside?

He swore to himself, anxiously tapping his fingers against his side as he looked around. A few moments later, he saw the familiar head of dark hair exit the toilets, stopping when he saw Roger again.

“I hope you don’t overthink this, Roger, but… would it be okay if I drove you back to my place?”

The drummer looked hesitant at first but he felt oddly safe around him. If he had wanted to, he could have let David continue beating him up, but he had come to Roger’s rescue. He nodded silently, albeit a bit apprehensively.

“Great, follow me, then, mate.”

Roger knew how dangerous this could turn out to be, but he trusted him. He followed him out of the club and took a cab with him to his flat about twenty-five minutes away, which meant he was even further away from Brian and his friends’ flat.

After they arrived, Roger wiped his forehead, still drenched in sweat, his hands still trembling. The flat was a bit smaller than his, but it was comfy enough.

“Umm… the shower’s right down the hall if you wish to take one,” Adrian offered before he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and drank from it.

Roger nodded. “R-Right, thanks.” He felt odd as he got undressed and hopped into the shower, washing himself with someone else’s soap. The drummer would’ve protested against it if he didn’t think he was a sweaty, stinky mess.

When he was finished, he dried himself off and threw out the bandages Brian had put on him this morning since they had gotten wet.

Then there was a knock at the door and muffled talking.

Roger couldn’t hear him with the door between them and his bum ear so he wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door to see Adrian holding clean clothes.

“Ah, right. Cheers,” he took the clothes from him, watching him smile softly and walk back down the hall.

Roger quickly got dressed, the clothes hanging off of his body but they still felt comfortably anyway. He walked back out to where Adrian was, unsure what exactly this was. He ran a hand through his hair and stood in silence before him.

“So… what d-do you want from me?” the drummer finally asked expectantly, scratching at his arm nervously.

Adrian looked surprised. “Me? I don’t want anything from you, Roger,” he shook his head. “I just wanted to give you a place of protection is all. You can spend a night here, if you want. Help yourself to food and drink, showers. You just look like you could use a helping hand.”

Roger looked suspicious at him but he wasn’t getting any bad feelings from this man so he nodded in appreciation. “Right, well… thank you. I’ll sleep out here on the couch.”

The other man nodded. “If you feel comfortable with that. If you need anything, I’m just in that room over there,” he pointed to the door.

Roger nodded. “Cheers.” He gave a weak smile to Adrian who smiled back and then walked over to the bedroom and closed his door. The blonde sat down on the couch, running his fingers through his hair.

_What the hell was he doing?_

He was at a stranger’s house when he knew exactly where he should really be. Roger knew how juvenile he was being but he felt like he still couldn’t face his friends. He was a hot mess that was derailing off the tracks.

Roger took out the vial from his jeans and spilled a bit on his hand before he snorted it up, once, twice. He sniffed and wiped his nose and saw he only had a little bit left. He pocketed it again, scratching at his neck. He took a deep breath to try to calm the panic in his chest.

Roger didn’t get any sleep at all, staying awake all night and watching the sun rise the next morning. He couldn’t stay here. He was too anxious, too antsy. He made coffee for his host and wrote a quick note, not wanting to seem like he didn’t appreciate the gesture: _Adrian – thanks for rescuing me back at the club and letting me come back here with you. I hope we see each other again soon. Cheers, Roger T._

He put it where he knew Adrian would be able to see it and grabbed his dirty, perspired clothes before he left the flat and looked around for a street name. Once he found one, he started towards the street and hailed a cab, asking them to drop him back off at the flat he shared with his band mates.

**…………… .. ………….. ….**

He stood at the door hesitantly, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was the cocaine or just his own nervousness. He ran a hand through his clean, damp hair and tried to turn the knob to open it but realized it was locked.

“Shit…” He rummaged through his jeans for his house key but came up empty. He must have left it here at home. _Smart._

He took a deep breath before he knocked on the door. A minute later, he was face to face with Brian. He took a quick step back from the guitarist, afraid that he might try to take a swing at him after Roger had hit him the last time they had seen each other.

 Brian’s heart sank and took a step outside, putting his hands up in surrender to show he wasn’t about to hurt the younger man. “Whoa, wait! I’m not going to hurt you, Rog… okay? I promise.”

The drummer relaxed now but still felt antsy as he found himself grinding his teeth. He looked around, figuring either David or one of his friends were close by. Brian watched his friend’s actions and looked around as well before looking back at Roger with concerned eyes. He gently grabbed his arm and brought him inside the flat before he closed and locked the door.

“What’s going on, mate?” Brian asked him quietly, searching his face. “Talk to me, please.”

The blonde grabbed his cigarettes from his pants and lit one shakily before he took a drag. “Can we talk alone?”

“Of course. Come on,” Brian led him into their room and closed the door. He put on some background music before he turned to his friend, giving him his full attention.

“D-David’s stalking me, or… h-he’s having me watched or something. I don’t even know.” He made sure to have his left side towards Brian so he could hear him. He took another drag.

The guitarist nodded as he listened to him. “Where did you go, Rog? How do you know he’s stalking you or whatever?”

“I went to the gay bar we went to the other night. Then I went to another gay bar in Soho, and that’s where I saw David. I had been dancing at the time… but he found me and he uhh… he dragged me to the toilets,” Roger explained, leaving out all the part where he had gotten coke and then been forced to pay with his own body.

He took another drag and scratched at his forehead.

Brian wrapped his arms around himself, feeling scared for the drummer. “I-I’m almost afraid to ask. What did he do?”

Roger shrugged. “He pushed me around a little but… then someone came in and stopped him from doing anything else.”

The guitarist nodded before he eyed the cut on his friend’s cheek. “Did he do that to you, Rog?”

He shook his head. “N-No. Someone else did that.”

“Jesus,” Brian sighed, running his hands through his hair. He had so many questions and he knew things were being left out simply because he knew Rog. “All right. Stay here, I’m going to get some bandages for your back and some antiseptic for your face.”

Roger nodded and tried to force himself to sit. His hands were still shaking but he managed to finally sit down and not go crazy. A few minutes later, the older man came back with all the first aid supplies and walked over to him so he was standing behind Roger.

“Can you take your shirt off for me? Or… whoever’s shirt you’re wearing because I know it’s not yours.”

Roger carefully pulled the shirt off his body and folded it up before he placed it on the bed. He grew quiet, unknowingly grinding his teeth again. Brian placed more antiseptic on the scratches on his back before placing fresh bandages on.

As he made his way down further where the other scratches on his back were, he noticed dark, handprint shaped bruises near Roger’s waist that looked smaller now than from the last time he had seen the blonde. His heart sank.

He scratched his nose and sighed to himself. “How’d you get these bruises?” When Roger was still silent, he made sure he was closer to his good ear and asked again. “How’d you get these bruises, Rog?”

The drummer looked up at him, his eyes scared. He didn’t want to answer that. He was too ashamed. He just shook his head.

Brian moved around to his front now and started to take care of the cut on Roger’s face before he glanced down and noticed the jagged cuts on his arm. He gasped softly, not having expected to see those, not ever. He swallowed hard. After placing a small bandage on Roger’s cheek, he sat down in a chair in front of him, gently grabbing his arm.

Automatically, Roger tried to rip his arm away from him. No, his friend couldn’t see what a fucked up mess he was. It would just be one more thing that made him get kicked out of the band. They couldn’t have an emotionally unstable drummer in Queen. It’d be headlines, and not the good ones.

“D-Don’t touch me…” Roger felt tears in his eyes and looked away.

Brian placed his hands on his friend’s knees gently. “Hey, look at me. I’m not going to judge you. How long have we known each other?” When Roger looked back at him, Brian gave a small smile. “You don’t have to give me reasons why right now. I just want to fix you up and make sure nothing gets infected, yeah?”

This seemed to help Roger relax a little bit and he nodded, holding out his arm for the other man. Brian gently held it in his hand, dabbing antiseptic on the cuts before he wrapped his forearm in gauze tape, figuring that would be easier than using more bandages. When he was done, he threw out the wrappings and looked at him carefully, meeting his eyes.

“Are you hurt anywhere else, Roger? Somewhere maybe I can’t see?”

Roger shook his head, telling the truth. The sex with that guy had been rough, but not as bad as it had been with David, and he wasn’t currently in pain _there_ now.

“All right,” Brian seemed satisfied with his answer but looked at him with concern in his eyes. “Roger, I’m sorry but I need to know; how long have you been doing cocaine?”

The other man tensed up now before he shook his head. “I’m not doing drugs.”

“You can lie to the others but you know you can’t lie to me. I don’t want you to lie to me, Roger. Please, just tell me the truth.”

Roger shook his head again. “And how the fuck do you think I can afford coke? After rent and groceries we barely had anything!”

“I don’t know, but… I have friends, Rog.  I know the signs of use and withdrawal. You were antsy earlier, you were scratching and sweating and you’re irritable… you’re pale, and God only knows the last time you ate was. Not to mention you're also grinding your teeth. I won’t be mad. I just want the truth from you,” Brian searched his face desperately. “That’s all.”

The drummer looked down at his hands now and sighed heavily, nodding. “Fine. Yeah, I’ve taken some, all right?”

Brian nodded now. “Thank you. Now, do you have any more? I think we should throw it away so you’re not tempted to have more of it.”

Roger bit his lip and shoved his pants that held the vial underneath his leg slowly. “No, I finished it earlier.”

He nodded and cleared his throat before he placed a hand on his friend’s arm. “You look like you’ve lost a bit of weight. Come eat breakfast with us, please?”

“I’m not hungry,” Roger mumbled, taking another drag before he finally put it out. “I think it’s the drugs. I haven’t really felt hungry since I started taking it.”

Brian nodded in understanding. “Yeah, decrease in appetite is one of the results of doing hard drugs. It’s okay, just hang out with us and talk? Do you think you can do that?”

He nodded and cleared his throat. “All right. Let me get changed and I’ll be right out.”

“All right, mate.” Brian nodded and slowly left the room, giving time for his friend to reach out to him if he needed to before he eventually closed the door.

The blonde stood up and hid the vial under his side of the mattress before he began to get changed into his own clothes, putting Adrian’s clothes folded up in a neat pile on a chair in the corner of the room. He fixed his hair and then walked out to see everyone sitting around the table talking softly as they ate their cheese toast and drank their coffee.

Freddie was the first one to see Roger and hurried over to him before wrapping his arms around the man. “Oh darling, I was so worried about you! I’m so glad you’re all right…”

“Thanks, Freddie,” Roger gave him a gently squeeze back as he walked over to the table and sat down between Brian and the singer. “So, what are we all talking about, then?”

John gave him a small smile. “The new album. We’re thinking of a couple more songs to put on it.”

The drummer sighed heavily and had to fight back the urge to yell about the damned album. He didn’t feel comfortable out here, in the open. He looked over at the front door, feeling paranoia swallowing him up like a black hole.

What if David was outside the door just biding his time?

The others looked over at the door as well, each of them exchanging looks. Brian already knew what was going on in his friend’s mind, though.

“He’s not out there, Rog. David’s not going to hurt you anymore,” he said gently.

That’s what you said last time too, and he did.”

“He hurt you again?” Freddie asked, incredulous. “When? Where?”

Roger shrugged. “Yesterday, at a club. He umm… he saw me and pulled me into the toilets and started shoving me around. I’m fine, though.”

“That bastard!” Freddie shook his head in disbelief.

“Guys,” Brian attempted to bring peace about. “Come on, let’s just… let him be. He’s tired and he’s had a rough couple of days.” He didn’t want to go into this with Freddie and John right now, not when he hadn’t even told him the whole story about what happened to Rog. He knew he’d have to explain everything to them eventually but he also wanted the drummer to rest a little and recover.

“I’m honestly surprised you aren’t angrier at him,” John remarked. “He _did_ punch you pretty good, Brian.”

Roger swallowed hard, tensing up again. He felt his heart racing before he looked at Brian with fearful eyes.

“I’ve already forgiven him, John. I know that he didn’t mean anything by it. It was my fault anyway. Let’s just drop it already, yeah? Come on, we have songs to write now, guys.”

The other two bandmates rolled their eyes but did drop it and automatically began discussing ideas for songs for the new album. Brian moved his chair a little bit closer to Roger and put his arm around the back of the drummer’s chair.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I’m not angry about it, at all. I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I was in the wrong and I really am sorry about that.”

Roger nodded and gave him a small smile, feeling like he was back with his family again. “It’s all right, but thank you… for apologizing.”

Brian nodded before he playfully messed up Roger’s hair and then turned his attention back to the other two men again. Roger relaxed a little, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He felt better being here, he decided. He was safer here, amongst his friends.

He wasn’t sure if he was in a hurry to go back out there again, not when he had missed Brian so much. He turned his attention to everyone at the table, making an effort to listen to them about the album, even if it was the last thing he wanted to think about right now.


	8. withdrawals

**.     .     .**

Roger tried to focus on the conversation they were currently having but he couldn’t stop sweating and he could hear his own heartbeat in his ear as it raced. His legs also couldn’t stop bobbing up and down like a wild man.  He swallowed hard, wiping at his forehead with his arm, trying to get control of his breathing.

“Rog? Roger?”

“Hey,” Brian said a little louder, leaning forward from where he sat at the table, seeing his friend in distress.

The drummer blinked and looked around to see everyone looking at him. He rubbed his eyes and nodded. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry… what were you saying?”

“You don’t look too well, darling. Perhaps you should go take a lie down?”

He considered it but he knew he wouldn’t feel any better. He knew what this was, even if he didn’t want to say it aloud. He would just feel bad in his room instead of out here. He shook his head.

“No, I’m… I’m fine.”

Freddie and John both didn’t look convinced. They both looked over at Brian, who was also looking equally worried. He stood up and then helped Roger stand up as well.

“Come on, mate. You’re going to lie down. Fred, would you mind getting a cold washcloth from the bathroom for him?”

“Of course, dear,” the singer jumped up and hurried off.

“John,” Brian started. “Do you mind helping me get him into his room?”

“Sure.”

“I can walk y’know,” Roger huffed, trying to shake them both off to no avail.

The two men helped Roger into his room and Brian made the drummer lay on the bed just as Freddie came in, handing the cloth to the guitarist who took it and looked at them.

“Thank you, gentlemen. I can take it from here, I believe. You two go do whatever you like. I’ll take care of him,” Brian assured the nervous looking men who nodded apprehensively before exiting the room.

“Jesus, Bri. You can really put on a one man show, you know that? I-I’m really fine. There’s no need for all the theatrics.”

Brian started dabbing at his face with the cloth before he held it to his forehead. “You’re going through withdrawals, Rog. Your body is craving cocaine, so… where’d you hide the rest of it?”

Roger looked up and at him now, shaking his head. “What are you talking about? I used it all. I don’t have any left.”

“That’s bollocks, Roger. I know you, and I know how you are.”

“What kind of person do you think I am?” Roger looked offended.

Brian sighed and looked more tired than anything. He searched Roger’s eyes. “The kind of person who gets offended when they know I’m right about you. Now come on, mate. No more lying, yeah? Where is it?”

The drummer swallowed hard. If he gave in, then he would have Brian’s trust but if he wouldn’t have any more of the cocaine, and _fuck_ he needed it right now. He shrugged, shaking his head. “I-I don’t know.”

“Really, Rog? You’re actually going to lay there and lie straight to my face? I’m trying to get you better!”

Roger shot upright. “What if I don’t want to get better?” He yelled at him. “What’s the fucking point of getting better if I have nothing to go back to?”

The guitarist knitted his eyebrows. “What the hell are you talking about? You have Queen! You have us…”

Roger let out a scoff and a humorless laugh. “O-Oh yeah… a lot of use it’ll do me being half deaf! I’m fucking worthless, Brian! I don’t have Queen!” he felt tears in his eyes. “I-I have nothing! The drugs help me! The drugs make me feel nothing and something at the same time… I n-need them!”

Brian shook his head, looking obviously disturbed by his friend’s line of thinking right now. He knew it was the drugs doing this to him, though, so he tried not to take everything he said to heart and attempted to keep a cool head.

He took the washcloth and started to dab at Roger’s perspired chest patiently. “You’re anything but worthless, Rog. I promise you that. You have us. You have your family, and you’ll always have Queen. I promised you that we’d figure something out for you for cues, and I meant it.”

Roger shook his head, feeling the tears running down his face. Somehow, the coolness of the washcloth felt nice on his skin and it helped relax him a little. He swallowed back a sob. “I-I don’t want to try anymore, Brian. I’m s-so fucking tired of trying and pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not.”

The older man continued to pat his skin, working his way back up to his friend’s face. “I know it’s exhausting to try and pretend, but… that’s living. You find a way to be okay with it. You find a way to try and pretend until it doesn’t feel like pretending anymore, and you want to keep trying. This isn’t the end for you, Roger.”

It was now when the blonde suddenly broke down, sobbing into his knees after bringing them into his chest. Brian gently wrapped an arm around the drummer and held him close to him, surprised when he felt Roger wrap two arms around him.

They stayed like that for a few hours until Roger composed himself again and looked at Brian.

“U-Under the mattress,” he said hoarsely.

The guitarist almost forgot what they had been talking about earlier until he suddenly remembered and reached a hand under the mattress before pulling out a small vial that contained a small amount of cocaine. He pocketed it quickly and looked at him.

“Do you want to sleep? Maybe you can sleep through the withdrawals until they’re over?”

Roger shook his head, still holding his body close to him. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep, Bri.”

“Hang on,” the other man stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

Brian walked out and grabbed a glass from the kitchen wordlessly before filling it with water and grabbed an orange prescription bottle and went back into the bedroom. “Here, you still had some from before. These will make the withdrawals a little less horrible for you, I hope.”

He handed his friend a sleeping pill and the water, and then watched Roger swallow both and set the water down next to the table.

“W-Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

Brian nodded and sat back down on the bed, wrapping an arm around the drummer. “Of course.”

Roger held onto him as he heard Brian start to hum one of their slower songs and it wasn’t long before he was asleep. Brian stayed a bit longer to make sure that the blonde was going to sleep and then half tucked him into the bed before he quietly snuck out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Is… is he all right?” John asked timidly, sitting on his knees on the couch as he craned his neck to look at Brian.

He nodded. “He’s just going through cocaine withdrawals. He should be okay in a couple days. He just needs to sleep through it, I think.”

Freddie looked at Brian worriedly. “Cocaine withdrawal… nasty business. What the bloody hell were we doing when Roger off snorting that shit up his nose?”

John looked down at his hands. “I believe we were here talking about an album.”

Brian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Roger was going to do it whether we kept tabs on him or not. He’s not someone we can just keep locked up here forever. He’s like a tiger in a cage; he gets antsy.”

Freddie nodded in agreement and wrapped a comforting arm around John. “John, dear. Don’t fret; Roger will be fine. He’s just going through a difficult time right now. I can’t imagine being half deaf, myself, to be honest. I can’t even imagine what he must be going through.”

Brian sat down in a chair across from them. “He’s frustrated and angry, and he thinks we’re going to kick him out of the band.”

“What? Why in the world would he think something like that?” Freddie asked, abashed.

Brian shrugged. “Because he’s half deaf and he can’t imagine drumming, I suppose. He thinks his career as a rock star is over now.”

“He can still play,” John said determinedly. “We can help him. We just have to help him figure out the right cues. He can still do it, though. It’s not impossible.”

“Of course it isn’t, darling,” Freddie agreed. “Roger isn’t one to have patience, though.”

Brian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s just focus on one thing at a time, shall we?” He asked calmly. “Right now, he needs to withdrawal from the coke and relax. Then we’ll start thinking about the album again.”

The other two men nodded in agreement and began discussing what was next to help their friend recover.

 

**……………. … ……………. … …………..**

When Roger woke up again, it was daylight, which made him think he hadn’t slept very long at all, until he glanced over at the clock and saw it read 6 a.m.  He looked over and saw Brian lying in bed but he was awake and sat up when he saw his friend.

“Hey… you slept a long time. How’re you feeling?”

To be honest, Roger felt like shit. His hands were still trembling and he was still sweating, but at least he felt rested. He shrugged and took a deep breath, putting his hands to his head.

“My head feels like it’s going to split apart,” he tried not to whimper.

Brian stood up. “Do you want me to get you some aspirin, Rog?” When the drummer nodded, Brian quickly went into the bathroom and grabbed the bottle of aspirin and then hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water before going back to Roger and handing them both to him.

“Cheers.” He swallowed the aspirin before he groaned in pain. “Fuck, Bri. It hurts so much…”

“I know,” Brian said sympathetically. “Let’s at least get you up and out to the living room and you can go back to sleep if you want, yeah?”

Roger didn’t look happy about it, but he felt too crummy to argue. He grabbed his blanket and stood up before shuffling out to the living room. Brian sat on the couch and then let Roger put his head on his lap as the drummer lay down. He ran his fingers through the blonde’s messy hair.

“It’s good to see you out of bed, Rog,” Freddie smiled as he walked into the kitchen.

Roger let out a small groan of acknowledgement.

“Fred, can you grab one of the towels off the fridge and an ice pack from the freezer, please,” Brian asked politely.

“Oh, of course, dear.” Freddie put the ice pack inside the towel before giving it to Brian and then went back into the kitchen to start the coffee.

Brian gently placed the ice on Roger’s head, letting the other man guide it to where he needed it to be. He felt himself relax a little when he heard a soft sigh of relief come from Roger.

John came out next and walked to the living room, smiling weakly when he saw the drummer out there with them today.

“How’s he feeling?”

“Rog? Do you want to answer that?” Brian asked gently.

The drummer groaned. “So hot.”

“We already know how you feel about yourself, darling,” Freddie teased, plopping down on a chair nearby with a cup of coffee.

Brian rolled his eyes, still holding the ice on Roger’s forehead as the drummer continued to lay his head in his lap. John grabbed his coffee as well and handed one to Brian before he sat down on the far end of the couch.

“Cheers,” Brian thanked him when he took the coffee.

“Deaky, can I put my feet up on you?”

The bassist looked over at him but smirked to himself. “Yeah, sure. I suppose so.”

“Thanks.” Roger lifted his feet and carefully lay them across the younger man’s lap. “Much better. You guys are pretty comfy…”

“So glad we could act as cushions and pillows for you, Rog,” Brian chuckled, shaking his head playfully as he took another sip of coffee. The boys exchanged worried looks at the drummer as Brian ran his fingers through Roger’s hair again with his free hand.

Roger hugged his friend’s knee gently, feeling safe with him.

“Is he going to be all right?” John asked softly.

Brian nodded. “Yeah, he will. He’s just going through withdrawals and detoxing. He’ll be fine once he can get all the toxins and shite out of his system, I think.”

“He doesn’t look up for practicing any time soon, darling,” Freddie observed. “It’s awfully difficult to practice without him.”

John looked over at the singer, surprised at Freddie’s statement, shrugging. “We’ll take a few days’ break from playing. We need to figure out how we’re going to do his cues anyway, yeah? I think we all could use a break.”

“Could you?” Freddie asked rhetorically, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

The singer’s tone made Brian look over at him now. “What’s the problem, Fred? Roger’s sick. He needs time to get better. He can’t get better if he’s slumped over behind a drum kit, going through withdrawal, right?”

John could sense the rising tension in the room and knew that he would have to choose a side, because that’s usually how these arguments went when they had them.

Freddie sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Sure enough, he turned his attention to the bassist. “Well, one against one. What do you think, Deaky? Do you think we should practice without Rog?”

“Fred, just leave him out of this,” Brian urged.

The singer put up a finger to silence him. “No, it’s fine, dear. I simply want to know what he thinks. We can vote on it…”

“I vote that you all just shut up and Freddie goes away,” Roger groaned, his eyes still closed.

Brian shrugged. “I can get behind that vote,” he said quietly so only his friend could hear him.

“Deaky,” Freddie tried again, looking at him with cool, calculating eyes. “What do you think we should do? Keep in mind that we need to write at least three more songs and practice before we can finally finish this album, and we need to finish it before the season’s through.”

John sighed, annoyed that he was caught in the middle. Usually Brian was able to get him out of situations like these, but he knew this time, the bassist was on his own. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at the singer.

“I agree with Brian,” he said cautiously. “I think right now we need to focus on letting Roger rest and get better before we start doing anything else with the album.”

“Of course you think that,” Freddie scoffed, lighting up a cigarette.

“Don’t get upset at John,” Brian ordered him now. “It’s not his fault. You put him on the spot and you’re just upset because you know he’s right.”

Freddie quickly stood up, grabbing his paper and pen. “I’m upset because it feels like we’re taking a break because one of us has no self-control and couldn’t help but dip his finger into the powder.”

Roger tensed and he started to sit up, despite how horrible he was feeling as anger started taking over. “Piss off, Freddie! Maybe if you had been in my life a bit more before, none of this would’ve happened!”

“We tried, darling,” Freddie said evenly but had a challenging tone to his voice. “Your rapist boyfriend wouldn’t let us anywhere near you. You have no one to blame for putting all that poison up your nose except for yourself, I’m afraid.”

“Guys –" John tried to interject.

Roger jumped up off the couch, knocking the ice on the floor. He started towards Freddie now, fire in his veins. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite! I’ve seen you do it too!”

Freddie calmly stood up and looked at the drummer. “Perhaps, but never to excess, dear, like you did. I have control.”

Brian sighed and stood up, getting in between them. He put himself in the middle, gently putting a hand on Fred’s chest before he moved him away from the blonde. “Hey! Time out, yeah? Go write some more music, Fred.”

“I’d love to, darling.” He gave Roger one last look before he walked out of the room finally.

Brian turned to Roger. “You, lay back down and take a breath.” He sat back down on the couch and watched as the drummer took a deep breath and obeyed his friend as he lay back down again, putting his head on the guitarist’s lap and his feet back up on John’s lap.

“I hate to say it, but he’s right,” Roger groaned, grabbing the ice pack from off the floor and let Brian help him put it back on his head again, holding it there.

John looked over at him. “Right about what, Rog?”

“We _do_ need to get this bloody album done, and we _do_ need to practice, especially because of what happened with me. We can’t play gigs the way that we are right now,” Roger explained, shrugging. “And he’s right about me not having any self-control.”

Brian and John both shook their heads but it was John’s gentle voice Roger heard speak.

“Freddie just doesn’t like not doing things his way and he gets upset,” the bassist shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I think he’s out of line talking to you how he did, but it’s his personality. Anyway, we’re in a rock band; I would’ve been more surprised if you hadn’t ever gotten into hard drugs at any point, to be honest.”

Brian gave him a blank stare. “Wow, real helpful, John. Thanks for that.”

John sighed and shrugged, rolling his eyes before he put his hands up in surrender. “Only trying to help, sorry.”

Brian gave the bassist a reassuring, friendly smirk to show that he wasn’t actually upset at him. “Fred’ll get over it. Let him have some alone time to make some music. Anyway, we’ll practice once Roger’s better and not before. If Fred doesn’t like it, then he can just deal with it.”

John nodded now in agreement, sipping his coffee again as the three men started to talk about something unrelated for the next couple hours, talking genially again.

After about another half hour, Roger was able to fall asleep against Brian, who didn’t seem to mind. John announced he had to go do something but he’d be back soon, and left Brian alone with Roger on the couch.

The drummer’s sleeping spell was short-lived, however when he woke up about half an hour later, drenched in sweat, gasping loudly before he looked around frantically, his hands trembling again.

Brian tensed and looked at his friend. “Hey, you’re all right. You’re safe… you’re home.”

Roger took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair, coming up with more perspiration. He could feel his heart beating frantically in his chest still. He rubbed his eyes hard.

“C-Can you help get me into a bath, Bri?”

The guitarist instantly nodded, setting his third cup of coffee down on the table. “Yeah, sure.” He stood up and helped Roger up as well before he wrapped an arm around the drummer’s weakened body and walked him down the hallway to the bathroom.

“Need help getting undressed?”

Roger shook his head, just needing to get his pants off since he was still shirtless from earlier. He watched as Brian plugged the drain and started running a cool bath. He looked at him with sincere eyes.

“I-I’m... I’m sorry, Bri,” he said suddenly, almost inaudibly.

This made the guitarist look over at him. “For what?”

Roger shrugged, well aware of how naked he was and how vulnerable he was currently feeling, perhaps feeling like he had hit rock bottom. “For how I treated you guys, when I was with David, I guess? I was awful, and I’ve been so off my head these past few months that I don’t even know what is up or down anymore.”

Brian grabbed a towel from the linen closet and set it on the sink. “We know that wasn’t you, Rog,” he said honestly. “That was David manipulating you, hurting you. He turned you against us by gas lighting you and that was wrong. Everything that he did to you was… fucking disgusting and wrong and I wish we could’ve helped you sooner, before it came to… this,”

He didn’t point to anything but Roger nodded in understanding what Brian was referring to.

“Come on, mate. Let’s get you in the tub, yeah?” When Roger nodded again, he helped the drummer carefully get into the cool water, helping him to sit down and then pulled the curtain halfway to give him a little privacy, but made sure he could still see his face.

There was a quietness in the room as Roger washed his body and then relaxed in the water, willing his heart to calm down.

“How are you feeling?” Brian asked him softly.

“Oh yeah, Bri. I feel great,” Roger said sarcastically, looking down at his trembling hands as he tried to hide the tears in his eyes, looking away so his bad ear was facing the older man.

“Look at me,” he said gently before he realized that Roger wasn’t able to hear him. He didn’t want to yell though, lest his friend though that he was being yelled at. He moved himself so he was sitting next to the bathtub on the floor now. “Look at me, Rog,” he tried again.

He saw his friend shake his head and he knew that Roger was in a bad place again. “Please?”

Roger finally did look at him with tear filled eyes as he roughly wiped them away and brought his legs up to his body, hugging them close before he suddenly started sobbing into them.

The scene made Brian’s heart break for him and he wanted to kill David, and everyone else that Roger had come into contact with that Brian hadn’t been there to see. He just realized now that he didn’t even know the whole story.

Brian swallowed hard, wrapping a careful arm around the part of Roger’s back that wasn’t scratched up. He let him cry for a good half hour and waited until Roger had let it out a little before he spoke again.

“Tell me how you got the coke, Rog,” he said gently. “Who gave it to you? How… how did you pay for it?”

Roger sniffled and turned to look at him, his eyes red and swollen from crying now but otherwise he looked okay.

“I don’t know what his name was. I met him inside a gay club in Soho. Umm… I didn’t have any money with me at the time; I had blown it all on drinks. I uhh…” Roger ran a hand through his hair, looking down again, afraid to meet Brian’s eyes. “I had sex with him for the coke.”

Brian sucked in a shaky breath at the thought of his best mate having to pay for coke with his body. He swallowed hard, shaking his head, deciding he wanted to murder that man that made him do that too. Then a thought occurred to him.

“Rog, did he… did he rape you too?”

The drummer shook his head. “No. I wanted the coke, and I never said no or stop. I let him do it,” he shrugged, a brokenness in his voice. “It was a business transaction.”

“Fuck,” Brian swore quietly, hating that his friend had felt like he needed to do all of this so he could feel alive again. “I’m sorry, Rog. I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve –“

Roger shook his head. “No offense, but I’m real tired of listening to you apologize for my mistakes. I made the choices. None of this is your fault, Bri. I… I did this to myself.”

“Why?” The guitarist searched the younger man’s face. “Why did you go on a coke and sex binge? I mean, I’m not going to judge you for it, Roger, but… I just need to know. This isn’t like you… I mean, the sex, yeah, but usually just with women. Once again, not judging, but I just want some answers, yeah?”

Roger nodded. “After David, I was so angry that I became a half deaf drummer. He ruined me. He ruined my career in Queen, and I was pissed at him for it, Bri. I was frustrated when we first practiced and I didn’t want to feel anything, but I also wanted to feel something all at once. It sounds lame now, but it’s true, and… I felt so confused. I felt confused because… I’m attracted to women, and I’m attracted to men too, and I didn’t know where I belonged anymore.”

Brian felt his heart break again as he listened. He placed his hand on Roger’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you felt like that. I know I sound like a broken record now, but I really am sorry you had to go through all of that alone. You’re not alone anymore, though, and you belong here, with us. With Queen, with your family.”

Roger sniffed again and gave a weak smile, nodding but it didn’t meet his eyes. “Thank you, Bri. I… I really appreciate that.”

“I mean it, you know,” the guitarist smiled warmly. “You mean a lot to us. You mean a lot to me.”

Roger looked over and nodded in acknowledgement before he hugged his legs to his body again. “You mean a lot to me too,” he said quietly, sadly.

Brian was about to ask him what was going through his head right now when the door opened and in walked John before he closed the door again.

“I’m about to order out for early dinner. What would you guys like?”

Brian looked over at Roger who just shook his head. He looked back over at John. “Chinese?”

“All right,” John nodded, smiling softly before he walked out. A few minutes later though, there was another knock on the door before it opened and in walked Freddie.

“Knock knock, darlings.”

Roger groaned and shook his head. “I’m sorry – why must everyone walk in on me during this bath right now? Is there a sign somewhere that says ‘Fuck Roger, let’s interrupt him at every cost’?” He asked annoyed.

Brian chuckled at Roger’s comment before he looked over at the singer. “What is it, Fred?” He asked politely.

Freddie looked over at Roger. “I came to ask if you’d like to play a couple games of Scrabble with me as a peace offering,” he suggested calmly. “I’m sorry about earlier, Rog.”

The drummer looked over at him now and nodded. “Yeah, fine. All right, then.”

“Lovely, whenever you’re ready, dear.”

Brian watched as the singer left and looked at the blonde. “Are you ready to get out now?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

Brian took his hand to help him stand and then handed him his towel before helping him out and let him dry himself off before wrapping it around his waist. He helped him down the hall to his room so he could change, relieved that Freddie had apologized but still felt like something was off with Roger.

He was too quiet still and when he did talk, there was an emptiness in his voice. His smiles were forced, fake. Something was wrong, and it terrified Brian that he didn’t know what.


	9. escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: this chapter contains a suicide attempt. Please read at your own risk, and only when you feel safe and okay. If you or someone else are feeling suicidal, please reach out or ask someone to help you.

**.    .    .**

  
“Christ, Freddie, it’s like you swallowed a thesaurus,” John complained bitterly as he watched Brian reluctantly mark down thirty-three points on a pad of paper.

“Do you even know what that means?” Brian asked with a smirk, pointing to the new word on the board.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, darlings,” the singer rolled his eyes. “Of course I know what it means! Do you honestly think I’d use a word without knowing its meaning? Do I look like Rog?”

John sighed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Fine, whatever, Freddie.”

Brian glanced over at the drummer to see how he reacted to the friendly jest against him but there was an unreadable expression on his friend’s face. He waited until Freddie and John stared discussing proper Scrabble etiquette before he leaned over and gently bumped Roger’s shoulder with his own.

“Hey, did you want to stop playing?” He asked quietly.

Roger finally looked over at him and cleared his throat. “Hm? No, it’s fine. I can finish this game. I think I’m going to bed afterwards, though.”

Brian nodded but still felt like something was off. He searched his face. “I could probably sleep too, if you wanted company?”

The drummer shook his head. “N-No, it’s… it’s fine, really. Stay up and hang out with them. I’ll be okay.” There was something in the man’s voice that made Brian tense up.

“ _Will_ you? Be all right?”

“I just said I would be,” Roger sighed impatiently. “Seriously, Bri. I’m fine. Just do what you want. Don’t let me hold you back.”

The guitarist searched his face, sensing that the blonde was referring to something else as well. He ran a hand through his mop of dark curls and bit his lip. “Yeah, all right, then. If you’re sure.”

It wasn’t long before John, Roger and Brian all forfeit the game due to growing impatience of the singer’s increasingly long words. Brian helped John clean up the board before Roger stood up and groaned as he stretched out his sore limbs and suddenly felt nauseous.

He ran to the bathroom and made it in time just before he fell to his knees in front of the toilet and spilled his empty stomach. It was only a few moments later when he felt Brian’s hands carefully move his hair out of the way and felt a cold washcloth on his hot skin again.

He was quiet as he purged his body of the poison, feeling so weak and tired. When he had finished, he sat against the cool tiled wall, closing his eyes. “P-Please,” he begged in a whisper. “Just… l-let me have a little –"

“No,” Brian spoke instantly, cutting him off.

“Please, Bri,” Roger persisted. “J-Just a little to help get me back o-on my feet. I can’t keep being like this. I don’t want to be like this a-anymore.”

The guitarist bit his lip and knelt down in front of Roger, looking at his pale skin before he gently dabbed at the perspiration on his forehead and cheeks. “I’m sorry, Rog, but I’m not letting you have any more of this filth. It’s not going to help your hearing, and it’s not going to help you play drums better. We need you clean again. Everything you’re feeling right now is going to pass, but you need to rest. You need to eat something.”

Roger shook his head. “I-I can’t. I can’t eat anything. It’s not going to help me any. I’m just going to be fatter and I’ll feel worse about myself and… then I’ll go back out again and get more.”

Brian felt his heart break. He had suspected something was off with Roger and this was it. He had an eating disorder; this was what the bad feeling in his chest had been. He swallowed hard, shaking his head defiantly.

“You’re not fat, Roger. You’re not. Whatever bullshit that David put in your head before, it’s not true. You’re… frighteningly skinny, Roger. You’re too thin. The cocaine isn’t going to help you; it’s just going to make you feel worse about yourself.”

“You’re wrong, Brian! It’ll help me! It’ll help me get better.”

The guitarist sighed and rubbed his chin in thought. “Come on, mate. Let’s get some sleep and we can work on getting you better tomorrow.”

He stood up and gently pulled his friend back up to his feet before helping him to his room, closing the door behind him and helping him get into bed.

 

**………. … ……… ..**

When Brian woke up, he noticed the sun was just coming up but Roger was no longer next to him anymore. He felt his heart stop in his chest, feeling adrenaline pumping through him as he sprung to his feet and started looking in rooms for the drummer.

He saw the bathroom door cracked open ever so slightly and he ran inside to see Roger standing in front of the mirror with red eyes as if he had been crying, and then noticed something in his hand.

The coke vial.

Brian shut the door quietly, watching his friend worriedly. “R-Rog, are you okay?”

The drummer swallowed hard, looking at Brian in the mirror for a long time but didn’t say anything. Brian moved a bit closer to him, watching him with careful eyes.

“What are you doing, Rog?” He whispered gently, fearfully. He didn’t know how long his friend had been in here for, or what he had done or taken. “Please, talk to me.”

Roger sniffled and took a shaky breath before he held out the vial, the cocaine still inside of it. “I-I didn’t take any. I… I wanted to. I wanted to take the lot of it, but… I didn’t.”

The guitarist looked at the vial before he nodded, looking back at Roger. “D-Did you take anything?”

Roger shook his head, regret in his eyes before he looked back at himself in the mirror. Brian could see tears welling in is his eyes again and moved a bit closer to him. “What are you thinking about?”

“L-Look at me, Bri! I’m… I’m a fucking pig!” The drummer shouted in disgust at himself, his hands clenched into fists.

He gently turned his friend around so he could look at him face to face. “You’re not fat, Roger. You’re not a pig… I’m not sure what you see, but I see someone who’s ill, and needs help.”

“What about this, then?” Roger grabbed at the little skin he had on his stomach and pinched it, scoffing as tears ran down his face. “Jesus, Brian… how can you even stand to look at me, let alone have me in the band?”

Brian felt his heart breaking again. He moved closer and then gently touched one of Roger’s ribs that were pinching his skin, visible. “What do you think this is, Roger? Do you think this is fat, because it’s not. It’s a bone; it’s part of your ribcage and… it’s because you’re not eating properly. You need to let us help you, mate.”

Roger looked down at where Brian was touching and he just shook his head in conflict. He was quiet for a long time before he sniffled again and looked down at Brian’s hand, a sudden, determined, dark look in his eyes.

“G-Give it back to me.” It was no longer a plea, but a demand.

“No,” Brian shook his head, holding it in his hand tightly. “You had your chance to use it, and you chose not to. There had to be a reason for that. I’m not giving it back to you, Rog.”

“Give. It. Back. To me. Now.”

Brian shook his head again, taking a step back. Before he knew what had happened, he felt Roger shove him into the wall and he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him as his head hit the wall but luckily, it hadn’t been all that hard of a shove. He kept the vial tightly in his fist as he caught himself against the wall with his free hand.

“Really, Rog? You’re going to fucking hurt me over this junk?! Does it really mean that much to you that you’d hurt your best mate over it?” Brian yelled, trying to wake him up.

Roger tried to claw his way into Brian’s hand, breaking his skin open. “Give it to me! It’s the only thing that fucking matters to me!”

The drummer’s words cut him like a knife, and he cringed as he felt his skin being ripped open but he didn’t give in. He wouldn’t. He forced himself back to his feet and then placed a hand on his friend’s chest firmly and pinned him against the wall.

“Listen to me, Rog! This isn’t you talking right now. This is the withdrawal! You’re at the tail end of it now… don’t throw it away just for half a gram of coke that’ll give you a rush for a little while until you realize that you ran out and that’s it.” Brian looked at him firmly, searching his face.

Roger’s eyes were sad and empty and hollow and he had no more fight in him. He whimpered before he hit the door with his fist in frustration. “Fuck!”

The older man slowly released him and sighed before he walked over to the toilet and emptied the vial into it before quickly flushing the rest of the cocaine. He glanced over at the drummer who looked so tortured right now that he just wished he could take away every ounce of pain his friend was feeling and put it on himself instead.

“It’s going to be okay, Rog. I’m proud of you for not taking it when you could’ve.”

Roger didn’t say anything as he moved out of the bathroom and went back into his room again, burying himself under the safety of the sheets. Brian ran his hands through his hair in relief before he decided to give his friend time to think.

He walked out to the kitchen and threw away the empty coke vial in the garbage before starting the coffee. About ten minutes later, he saw John come out, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he sat down on the couch.

Brian joined him and looked over at him. “You’re up early.”

The bassist shrugged. “Hard to sleep when there’s yelling and pounding coming from the bathroom,” he said casually. “Everything all right with Rog?”

Brian felt grateful for the younger man’s patience and concern for the drummer; he didn’t know how John could be so patient right now, but he was glad at least one of them had a cool head during all this chaos.

“He’s having a real difficult time right now with the withdrawal, and I don’t know how to help him. I just flushed the rest of the cocaine he had, but… I don’t know what else I can do.”

“You already helped him, Brian. You got rid of temptation for him. He might be angry about it right now, but he’ll thank you for it later,” John said, matter-of-factly.

“Thanks, John,” the guitarist said sincerely before he leaned back on the couch and looked over at him again. “I’m pretty sure Roger’s anorexic. He has an eating disorder, thanks to David. How am I supposed to help him right now? He’s a physical and mental wreck.”

John turned to him. “You’re not… responsible for him. It’s good that you care so much about him, but you’re not meant to do this alone. He needs professional help, Bri. He has a lot going on right now, but none of it should be on your shoulders. You should call someone and see if maybe… they can take him for a while, help him through all the trauma he’s gone through.”

Brian looked uneasy. “You mean send him to a mental hospital?”

John shrugged but then shook his head, having second thoughts as he watched Brian’s skepticism increase with every suggestion. “No, perhaps not, but… maybe just a hospital? I don’t know, Brian. This is over our heads. He’s been through a lot and maybe going out for drinks and clubbing isn’t the right environment for him right now while he’s withdrawling.”

Brian nodded, knowing that his friend had a valid point. They couldn’t practice anyway with how Roger was right now. Even after the withdrawals would be over with soon, he still would be focused on his eating disorder, and his depression didn’t help things any either. Maybe John was right; maybe he did need professional help.

“After the withdrawals are over, then we’ll see about getting him help. I think he just needs us right now,” Brian declared.

John nodded in agreement and gave a gentle smile. “I think so as well. You’re doing good with him, Brian, even if you can’t see it. He’d be worse off without you here helping him.”

Then a thought occurred to him suddenly. “If I wasn’t here, would you and Freddie still help him?”

John chuckled softly before he nodded. “Of course we would, Brian. He’s family, but he’s closer to you. I think you’re helping him more than you realize just by being here.”

Brian nodded in understanding and smiled back at him. “Thanks, Deaky. I needed to hear that.”

 

**…………. … ………….. …**

Roger stayed in bed for most of the day, interrupted occasionally by Brian offering him plates of food that he left on the table before the guitarist slipped out again. He felt a sharp pain in his stomach and he felt a restlessness that he hadn’t ever felt before. Even though he had taken a cool shower earlier, he was once again covered in beads of sweat.

His head was throbbing in pain from his headache.

_He deserved this. He deserved all this pain for letting himself become half deaf and basically destroying Queen._

He groaned in pain, feeling like he couldn’t deal with any of it anymore. He sighed loudly. “Brian!” He called out.

A minute later, the older man peeked his head inside. “Hey, you okay?”

Roger shook his head, swallowing hard. “I-I want to sleep, Bri. Please give me something so I can sleep. My head is killing me a-and I’m in a lot of p-pain.” He held his stomach as another grip of pain washed over him again.

“All right, hold on.” Brian hurried out, grabbed the prescription bottle on the kitchen counter, and then hurried back to Roger’s room with a glass of water in his hand as well.

He took a pill out and absentmindedly placed the bottle on the table before handing Roger the glass of water. “Here you are, mate.”

“Thanks.” Roger quickly swallowed it down and lay back down again, kicking the sheets off of him.

“No problem. Call if you need anything else,” Brian offered before he ducked out of the room again.

The drummer tossed and turned, feeling his depression increasing rapidly as he waited for the sleeping pills to kick in. He felt all too aware of everything right now; he could hear his heartbeat hammering wildly in his ear, he felt the uncomfortable achiness of his joints as the withdrawal took over his body.

He was drowning in pain. His mind started forcing him to remember David, and then Adrian, and the drug dealer at the club who had fucked him as payment. He felt so dirty, so used, so fucking confused.

He wanted relief from his pain, all the pain, all the memories. He wanted relief from being half deaf and a burden on his friends.

_He wanted out._

Roger’s heart raced faster in his chest now and he tossed and turned again, this time towards the side of the room where his eyes caught sight of the pill bottle. He grabbed it quickly and spilled the pills out into his hand, counting them silently.

22 pills.

That might be enough to be relieved from this fresh hell. He wouldn’t be a bother to Brian or anyone anymore. He wouldn’t have to go through the terrible withdrawals anymore, or worry about numbers or his weight. As far as he could see, this would solve everything.

He started taking the pills, two at a time, taking sips of water to swallow them down. He felt tears in his eyes as he realized what he was doing.

No more Brian.

No more Freddie.

No more John.

No more Queen.

No more David.

_No more pain._

As he swallowed the last of the pills down, he felt a sleepiness stretch throughout his body, making his fingers begin to go numb. He lay in bed, feeling dizzy and nauseous and so incredibly tired now.

_This was it. No more living._

**…………………… … …………………**

John looked around in the kitchen before he glanced over at Brian who had put Roger to bed about ten minutes ago.

“Where’s the sleeping pills? I want to put them up in the cupboard.”

Brian looked up from his place at the couch and stood up, feeling for the bottle in his pockets and then starting to get the bad feeling again. “W-What? I thought I put them back…”

“I’ll go check Roger’s room. Maybe you left them on accident in there,” John walked into the room and froze when he saw Roger. The drummer looked paler than he had ever seen him and his lips looked blue.

He started gasping now and quickly put his fingers on the drummer’s neck and felt his blood run cold. There was a pulse, but it was weak. Too weak.

“B-Brian!” He called out weakly, his voice breaking as he felt tears start pouring from his eyes. “BRIAN!” He suddenly screamed.

Freddie suddenly ran in with Brian not far behind him. “What’s going on? Why the yelling, John?”

“Oh god!” John cried out, taking Roger’s hand. “T-The pills… he… I think he’s s-still breathing but I-I can’t tell…”

Brian ran over to Roger quickly, nearly knocking over the other two men and put his ear to the drummer’s chest before he started doing CPR. “H-He’s not breathing! John, call an ambulance!” He breathed air into Roger’s lungs. “C-Come on! Come on, R-Roger!”

Freddie stumbled back against the wall of the room in shock, not wanting to believe what was happening.

John forced himself back to reality and ran out to the phone before he dialed for help.

Brian continued to breathe air into the other man’s lungs but he still couldn’t feel a pulse or see him breathing.

_He had done this. He had let Roger OD. He had left the pills on the table. If Roger died, that was going to be on him, and him alone._

About seven minutes later, an ambulance pulled up and the boys watched on as they put Roger on a gurney and wheeled him into it before the guys jumped into the van and followed the ambulance with their friend in it to the hospital, all of them holding their breath.


	10. 360°

**.    .    .**

“Come on, darling. You simply must sit down. Your pacing back and forth is driving me utterly insane,” Freddie sighed, sitting in a chair in the waiting room with his arms crossed.

Brian shook his head, running his hands through his hair in distress. “N-No, not until I know he’s okay,” he said shakily, continuing his pacing.

John watched the guitarist, feeling scared and uneasy himself. If Brian was scared, then that alone was enough to make nervous as well. He was already scared for Roger and all he could think about was how blue the drummer had looked, and how Brian had done CPR on him for what had to be ages.

The men all felt eyes on them and rightly so; they had gotten past the stage of hardly being known and now were known all over the world, forget their own country. They were too recognizable now and it didn’t take math to do the counting and realize that it was Roger Taylor who was in here and in trouble.

It was about an hour before someone finally came out looking tired and disheveled, a doctor with a clipboard in his hand. The men all stood up when he walked over to them.

“Is he all right?” Brian asked right away.

The doctor took a deep breath. “He’s alive. He’s had his stomach pumped of the sleeping pills, and he’s out of the woods, as it were. He luckily didn’t suffer any organ failure thanks to how quickly he got here. I’d say if he had taken one or two more, he wouldn’t be so lucky, though.”

All the men breathed a sigh of relief now, Brian standing stiff and ridged as he looked at the doctor. “C-Can we see him?”

The doctor looked hesitant at first but nodded. John gave him a grateful smile, nodding once before following Brian and Freddie into the room. He suspected that if they were just regular people, there would have been a long waiting period before they could go see him, but because they were Queen, the doctor made an exception.

When they walked in, Roger’s lips were still tinged blue but his color was coming back again. IVs spidered into his arm, giving him nutrients as a heartrate machine nearby beeped reassuringly. The drummer sat upright when he saw the men enter the room and he felt more embarrassed than before, if that was possible.

Another thing he hadn’t succeeded at, another thing he couldn’t do right. Fucking typical. He wanted to say something but the tubing that had been done his throat on top of the charcoal had made stopped that, or at least from saying anything at a normal voice level.

Brian sat down in the chair closest to Roger and instantly laced his fingers into Roger’s, who held his hand back. They were quiet for the longest time and the drummer could see tears in all their eyes right now.

“I-I could really go for a smoke right now,” Roger said hoarsely, trying to break the tension in the room.

Brian gave him a weak, sad, smile before he quickly wiped at a tear that had escaped. He searched his friend’s face. “You scared the shite out of me, Rog,” he choked. “I-I thought you were dead.”

“We all did, darling,” Freddie corrected.

Roger sighed. “I’m sorry I’m not,” he ran a hand through his hair.

This made everyone look up and over at him in disbelief. Brian clenched his jaw but only to stop himself from crying. “I-I know you’ve been through… too much, but you should have reached out to us. You should’ve told us how suicidal you were. W-We could’ve… done _something_ to help you.”

“Christ’s sake, Bri. Don’t tell me what I _should have_ done. It’s a bit too late for that, isn’t it? I don’t want to talk about this right now anyway,” he groaned, rubbing his throat. “Please, just… not right now, yeah? The last thing I need right now is for you to read me the riot act.”

The guitarist looked like he was about to argue but swallowed it down and nodded instead. Everyone was quiet for several more minutes before Brian spoke again.

“What did the doctor say to you, Rog?” He asked gently now.

Roger looked down at his slender hands and shrugged. “He says I’m likely to try it again if I don’t talk to a therapist and I can’t leave here either for twenty-four hours so I’m basically stuck here but he says he wants to put me on suicide watch for forty-eight hours, because of who I am. They can’t keep me here that long, though and I don’t plan to.”

“I think you should,” the guitarist suggested. “I really think you need to. I’d stay here with you.”

Roger blinked and then chuckled humorlessly. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” Roger said again. “I’m not staying here. I’m going back home once twenty-four hours is up.” He glanced between John and Freddie who looked uncomfortable to be there.

“Guys, would you mind giving Rog and me a couple minutes alone?”

Freddie stood up, wrapping a comforting arm around John’s shoulders. “Of course, dear. We’ll be right outside the room if you need us.”

“Thanks.” He waited until the two men left Roger’s room and closed the door before he looked back at Roger. “I know you don’t want to be here, but these people can do a hell of a lot more for you here than we can at home.”

Roger tilted his head to the side. “You’re fucking kidding me, right, Bri?”

“No, I thought that you were better off at home with us, at first. Then this happened and… I don’t know anymore, Rog. I don’t know how to help you, and I wish to God I did. I want to help you more than anything but… I-I’m terrified I don’t want you to try this again and… succeed,” Brian looked down, wiping his eyes again.

It hurt to see his friend so upset, but he felt upset as well. He felt more depressed now than he did before. He bit his lip. “I don’t want to stay here. Please, Brian. Don’t make me stay here longer than I have to.”

The older man swallowed back a sob and leaned back in the chair, feeling frustrated and sad. “I-I’m sorry, Roger. I… I think it’s better if you stay here. I’m going to sign for it, and tell them no matter what, not to let you leave because I think you’re a danger to yourself, and others.”

Roger tensed now and shook his head. “You prick! You wouldn’t! I’m going to be a danger to you if you don’t help get me out of here!”

“I’m so sorry, Roger, but I have to do this, to help you, to help us. To save Queen. We need you feeling better, but you need to do it at your own pace and it’s not going to help anyone if you’re released early.”

Roger kicked the bottom of the bed frame in anger and felt tears rise in his own eyes. “Get out.”

“Roger, I just –"

“Get out!” the blonde shouted now. “I don’t want to talk to any of you right now! I’ll… see you when I get out.”

Brian sighed heavily and stood up and turned to leave but forced himself to look back at Roger. “I love you, Rog. We all do, and all we want from you is for you to get better, get through this. We’re all here for you, mate. Don’t forget that.”

He turned back around and walked out of Roger’s room before he closed the door again, turning to Freddie and John who looked at him with worry.

“You two head back home. I’m going to stay here with him.”

Freddie placed a hand on Brian’s shoulder. “We’ll stay here with you, darling. There’s no reason for you to be alone right now.”

“Yeah,” John agreed. “We’re here for you, Brian. We have nothing to do back at the flat anyway.”

The guitarist gave them a smile and he placed both his hands on their shoulders as well. “Go. Really, I’ll be fine here by myself. I just want to be here for Roger and if the doctors have any questions about him. You two should head back and get some sleep.”

Freddie and John both had conflicted looks on their faces but they reluctantly nodded before hugging Brian goodbye and headed out of the hospital. He watched them go before he grabbed a chair and placed it outside of Roger’s room, leaning his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

It wasn’t five minutes he had done so when he heard a voice.

“Pardon me, Mr. May? Since you seem to be the closest thing to family that Mr. Taylor has, would you mind signing this statement giving your permission for him to stay forty-eight hours and a visit from our on staff therapist?”

The guitarist opened his eyes and read the statement, biting his lip in thought before he reluctantly signed the statement, just like he had promised Roger he would. The doctor nodded in thanks and then walked off, leaving him alone again.

He took a deep breath before letting himself sink back into the chair and closed his eyes. It wasn’t long before he had fallen asleep, finally letting himself relax at the thought of Roger safe and still alive.

 

****………… … ……… …****

When he woke up again, his neck was stiff and he was able to see the sun rising through the window when he looked off to the side. Brian groaned and stood up, heading to the café to grab coffee before he came back to Roger’s room and peeked in the window to see Roger smoking a cigarette.

He sighed and hurried inside before he walked over to him and grabbed the cigarette and put it out on the windowsill quickly. “What the bloody hell are you doing, Rog?”

“Oh come on! Staying in here is killing me!”

“No,” Brian disagreed, shaking his head. “Staying in here is what’s keeping you alive. I wish you’d make more of an effort to keep yourself alive as much as we want you to stay alive.”

Roger gave him a dark look, shaking his head. “If I have to hear that sodding song one more time, then I really will off myself!”

The other man sat down in the chair next to the bed. “Not funny.”

Roger wrapped his arms around himself and looked out the window, quiet for a long time.  He was beginning to wish more and more that he hadn’t survived. Even death would be better than _this_. He finally looked over at his friend.

“Why’d you stay? I told you to leave, that I didn’t want you here.”

Brian took a sip of coffee, looking perplexed. “Why not? I’m your best mate, Roger. Like I’m not going to be here for you when you need me? Why don’t you want me here?”

Roger swallowed hard. “I didn’t want you to… to see me like this.”

“What’s ‘this’?”

Roger started motioning to his body. “This! Fucking… fat and hideous and messed up.” 

Brian’s heart was breaking and he reached out and touched his arm. “Roger, you’re not fat or hideous, maybe a little bit messed up right now, but that’s why you’re here, yeah? You’re going to get better and you’re going to find ways to manage your anger and depression and… I wish I could do that for you at home, but give it a couple days here. You need this.”

Roger felt hot tears in his eyes. “D-Don’t leave me in here, Bri. I w-want to go home. Please… let me go home,” he begged. “I won’t try anything again. I just… I can’t be in here any longer.”

“I’m so sorry, Rog,” Brian rubbed his eyes roughly. “I wish I could take you back with me, but… I signed the papers. I signed them. You have to stay in here.”

Roger’s eyes widened and then looked at his friend with hurt in his eyes. “You d-didn’t.”

Brian bit his lip hard and nodded. “I’m still going to come every day and visit you, if they let me. You need this right now, but it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change how… irreplaceable and indispensable you are to us. We still love you, and we’re still here for you, mate. I need you to promise that you’ll give this place a chance to help you.”

Roger hit the bed hard with his clenched fist a few times before he started to sob, his heartrate increasing. “I-I can’t believe you. I can’t believe you would actually do this to me. You’re supposed to be my friend, Bri!”

“I am!” Brian cried out suddenly, tears in his own eyes now. “I am your friend, Roger. That’s why I’m doing this! This is the only way I can help you!”

“Fuck you,” Roger glared at him through his tears. “Get out! I don’t want you to visit me. I just want you to piss off!”

Brian stood up and looked down at the man before he wrapped his arms around his friend tightly as he struggled to get away from him. He held on tightly to Roger and leaned into his ear to whisper.

“I’m not abandoning you here, Roger. I’m coming back.”

Roger shoved him away and Brian let himself stumble back slightly before he ditched his forgotten coffee and hurried out of the hospital. He couldn’t stay here. He wasn’t doing Roger any favors now that he knew that he had been the one to sign him in. He’d visit tomorrow but for now, Roger needed to figure things out.

He made it to the parking lot before he realized that Freddie and John had taken the van and called a cab to come and take him home.

When he arrived back at the flat, he saw John and Freddie sitting on the couch watching television with intense eyes. Brian looked over at what they were watching and felt his heart drop.

_“It is believed that Queen drummer Roger Taylor is at this hospital right not recovering from a possible drug overdose. The drug is not yet known but we do know that he is said to be stable condition –_ _"_

Brian cursed and shut it off before he walked over and put a record on instead, turning it up a little before he walked back to over to them. “Fucking vultures.”

“How did they even know?” John asked in confusion.

“Oh darling,” Freddie sighed. “It was probably the doctor who called them, hoping to be the great doctor who saved the rock star from dying,” the singer rolled his eyes in disgust.

Brian rubbed his eyes and leaned over, resting his head on Freddie’s shoulder, feeling empty without Roger with him.

“How long are they going to keep him for?” The bassist asked now, changing the subject.

Brian swallowed hard. “As long as they need to, forty-eight hours _at least_. I signed a document letting them decide when to release him. He has… a lot to work out and I don’t think he should be released yet. He needs to talk to someone about everything he’s feeling. We can’t help him anymore.”

The two men looked at each other before looking over at Brian.

“Don’t worry, Brian. You did what you thought was right,” Freddie replied. “They’ll help him, dear.”

The band mates grew quiet again and listened to the music until it lulled them to sleep, all of them still on the couch and nestled into each other.

 

****………………… … ……………****

Twenty-four hours went by, then forty-eight, then a week went by, and day after day, the men all came and saw Roger, who appeared to gradually become less and less angry to see them. Brian had been afraid to see him and when he did at the end of the week, the drummer still seemed a bit miffed but otherwise, he seemed okay.

Brian sat across the table from him as they now sat in the eating disorder wing of the hospital. He gave his friend a warm smile and felt relief when it was returned. “You’re looking healthier, better,” the guitarist complimented, nodding to him.

“Fatter, you mean,” Roger chuckled weakly, shaking his head.

Brian gave his own head a shake in disagreement. “No, healthier. Anyway, you know you’re as handsome as they come. You never passed up an opportunity to let us know.”

Roger chuckled again before he bit his lip. “They said I can leave tomorrow.”

The older man tensed a little. “That’s a bit soon. How are you feeling?”

“Yeah,” the blonde nodded. “I feel good. I’ve been talking a lot to someone in here, a therapist, and… it felt good to get it all out. They gave me some tips on how to control all the… bad thoughts and the depression.”

Brian gave a smile and nodded. “That’s good, Rog.” He felt skeptical at how soon his friend was getting out but that was typical rock star treatment. He ran a hand through his hair, glad to see more meat on Roger’s bones, almost back to his pre-David self again.

“Thanks. Well, times up. Umm… will you guys come tomorrow to pick me up?” Roger asked timidly.

Brian nodded automatically. “Of course we will, Rog. We’ll be here tomorrow. What time?”

“Noon.”

“Yeah, we’ll be here then. Are you having any… doubts or anything, about leaving?” Brian searched his eyes.

There was a long silence on Roger’s part before he took a deep breath and shook his head. “I’m a bit nervous, but… I’m ready, you know?”

Brian smiled and nodded as they both stood up and hugged each other. It seemed like Roger had done a full 360 at this point; he was more like his old self, from before he had met David and been tortured and corrupted by him.

“See you tomorrow, Rog.”

The drummer smiled and nodded. “See you, mate.”


	11. revenge

**.    .    .**

  
“It’s a bit soon, isn’t it?”

Brian looked over at John from the table where the boys were drinking coffee. “It is,” he agreed, thumbing his chin. “But he seemed to have made some progress. His head seems to be in a better place than it was before.”

“ _Seems_ to be, and _is_ are two different things, darling,” Freddie chimed in. “I hope you’re right because I never want to see Roger like we did at the beginning of the week ever again. I simply couldn’t cope with it.”

The older man nodded in agreement and took another drink. It was definitely too soon, but he also knew that Roger wouldn’t be able to handle being cooped up in a hospital for 30 days either. Brian wasn’t even worried about the band’s good or bad publicity right now; he just wanted his mate to be okay. He glanced from John to Freddie with kind eyes.

“Watch what you say to him, please? He’s going to still be a bit delicate. Don’t mention the rape. Don’t mention the drugs. Just… talk to him like you would before all this shite happened.”

“What should we do if Roger mentions either?” The bassist asked softly, glancing over at Brian.

“He might joke about it, and he does, then try and guide the conversation elsewhere, yeah?” John nodded in understanding. “If he guides it back, then… be kind, let him talk and get it out of his system, but don’t force him.”

Both band mates nodded and Brian felt better about Roger coming home today. He had been anxious about it, wondered that Freddie, more than John, would be teasing Roger about his stint in the hospital. He finished his coffee and took the others’ cups before he washed them out in the sink. He was in the process of drying them when he saw John walk over to him as Freddie went to go get dressed.

John looked a bit uneasy, causing Brian to quickly finish drying the cups and turn his whole body to the younger man.

“Do you… do you think he might do it again? Try to kill himself?”

Brian searched John’s face before he shook his head. “No, Deaky, I don’t think he will. He had a lot of things pent up inside of him, a lot of feelings he was hiding and… he told me he’s talked to someone and they’ve helped him manage certain things, gave him coping mechanisms, the like. I think he knows healthier ways of handling his anger and depression now, and I’ve told him how we’re all here for him. I think he’s going to be all right now.”

John looked more relaxed now and nodded. “R-Right. Good, I’m glad.”

“Me too.” Brian smiled at him reassuringly.

“Oh, umm… do you think it’s too soon for him to do the cues for when we play and practice?”

Brian had completely forgotten about that task; he had been so wrapped up in trying to keep Roger alive. He thought about this but shook his head. “I think he’d be relieved to know the cues, if you have some ideas. He was stressed out before when he didn’t know when to play and when to stop, so… I actually think cues would be a good place for him to start again. Did you have something in mind?”

John bit his lip nervously. “I umm…. I went to the library last week, and I did some research. I mean, it seems pretty obvious now, but I figured maybe we could do this for him?” John put his hands up, palms facing towards Brian, and then moved them outward at the same time. “I-It means finished, and I figured it wouldn’t look silly or too obvious to anyone else.”

Brian smiled brightly and nodded, feeling proud of the bassist, nodding. “Yeah, it seems casual. We move around a lot on stage, point at each other… that seems like a good one, Deaky. Do you know any for starting for him?”

John thought for a moment and put his left hand up before he used the pinky from his right hand and glided it across his palm. “Start. It’s a pretty simple, quick motion.”

The guitarist found himself grinning in happiness now and suddenly enveloped his long arms around the shorter man in a hug before releasing him after a few moments.

John looked slightly amused. “What was that for?”

“For being such a great friend to Roger. It means a lot to me that you did so much research to help him. I know he’ll appreciate it too.”

John felt the heat rise in his cheeks before he shrugged. “He’s one of my best mates, of course I want to help him as much as I can. I want to make things easier for him, always.”

Brian gently rubbed John’s shoulder, still smiling. “I know. Thank you, John. Go on and get changed. I’ll meet you and Freddie in the van.”

John nodded and hurried off to go get ready. Brian grabbed the keys and headed out to the van, already having been ready for a couple hours now, eager to go pick Roger up. He turned the engine on and then turned up the radio when he heard Queen’s name.

“ – there is quite a turnout here in front of Hammersmith Hospital in London of fans and press alike. It appears Queen drummer Roger Taylor will be leaving very shortly following his drug overdose he had about a week ago today –"

“Shit,” Brian cursed before he turned the radio off just as Freddie and John piled into the van. “Looks like we won’t be the only ones waiting for Roger.”

“What do you mean, Brian?” Freddie asked with concern.

Brian started driving towards the hospital. “Apparently both our fans and the press are waiting to barrage him with questions as soon as he leaves, which is why we’ll be parking in the back of the hospital. We can take him out through there, I think.”

“Well that’s very undramatic and boring,” the singer sighed, defeated.

Brian smirked to himself, shaking his head. “Well that’s what we’re going for here, Fred. We want to make this as boring as possible for Roger. The last thing he needs right now is excitement.”

“If you insist,” Freddie waved his hand as he slouched in the passenger seat.

“Holy fuck,” John breathed in disbelief as they entered the hospital circle towards the parking lot near the back, his eyes looking upon the sea of people gathered in the front. “Who even tipped them off he was leaving today?”

“The doctor,” Freddie and Brian both answered in unison.

Brian put the van in park but didn’t shut the engine off. “All right. You two stay here. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Are you out of your mind, darling? We should be there to welcome our dear drummer back!”

“You can welcome him when I finally have him back in this van. If anyone spots us, then meet us one street over.”

“Yes, yes. All right, then,” Freddie sighed. “Go on!”

Brian walked quickly inside the hospital using a side door, and then headed up to Roger’s room where the man was already dressed and had his sunglasses on, smoking out a window.

“Oh good, you’re dressed.”

Roger took a drag before exhaling and then looked back over at Brian. “There’s a lot of people out there. What did you do, call them all up and tell them I was leaving?”

Brian rolled his eyes. “No, of course not. Why would I want to make it more difficult for us? Come on, the engine’s running.”

“All right, all right. Keep your knickers on, granddad,” Roger stood up and followed Brian towards the front desk where he signed the drummer out.

Brian gently pulled him down an empty side hall and walked until he found the door he had come in through and led him out towards the van.

Roger took another drag. “Jesus Christ, I never thought I’d be glad to see that van again.” He quickly climbed into it and immediately hugged John when he saw him before he sat down across from him, smiling.

Brian smiled at Roger’s greeting of Deaky before he started to head back home, feeling better than they weren’t spotted.

“Can you believe that prick?” Roger sighed, shaking his head as he inhaled the smoke.

“He really is a prick though, dear. We knew it the moment we saw the news and you were mentioned.”

The guys rode on, talking casually as if Roger didn’t just get out of the hospital after trying to kill himself. It was as if he had never even left them.

They got home and Freddie immediately hugged Roger tightly. Brian was next and hugged the drummer just as tightly for a lot longer before he forced himself to let go.

“It’s good to have you back, mate.”

Roger smirked, taking off his sunglasses before lighting another cigarette. “It’s good to be back. I’m glad it was just a hospital stay. I’d hate to see you all if I had gone off on vacation to a different country and came back,” he chuckled.

John smiled and walked a bit closer to Roger before he glanced over at Brian first, as if for permission. The guitarist automatically knew what John wanted to talk to Roger about and he nodded and smiled before he went into the kitchen to make some tea for all of them.

“Umm… I did some research last week, sign language, and… I think I know what we could do for cues for you, as far as practicing and gigs go, you know?” He talked a bit nervously, searching Roger’s eyes to make sure the drummer actually wanted to talk about this right now.

Roger’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? What’d you find out, Deaky?” He took another drag off his cigarette.

Freddie walked over to listen to the conversation as well, looking at them with interest.

“Well, I was thinking to let you know when you should start, since you can’t always hear us properly, one of us could… put our palm up like this,” he demonstrated by putting his hand up so Roger could see his palm, “and then do this,” he glided his pinky across his palm quickly. “Start.”

Roger took this in and nodded, obviously liking the idea a lot. “That’s good… yeah. What about when I should finish? Is there a sign for that too?”

“Yep,” John smiled and then performed the same hand motion he had shown Brian earlier, showing his palms to the drummer before moving them off to the side, tilting up slightly. “Stop.”

Roger watched this motion and then repeated it. “So… that’s stop… and the pinky across the palm is start. I think I got it. Thanks, Deaky… that’s a really good idea. I like it,” he nodded, smiling.

John breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that the drummer was going to think it was silly or dumb. He felt validated by his friend’s reaction, though.

“Sign language,” Freddie smirked, proud of the bassist. “Amazing, Deaky.”

“Thanks, Fred.”

Brian brought in the tray of tea and looked over at Roger, watching as he practiced the motions again in an attempt to memorize them. “What do you feel like doing, Rog?”

The blonde looked up and ran a hand through his hair, shrugging. “Oh, uhh… I don’t know. Whatever you guys feel like doing, I guess.”

Freddie looked at the clock. “How about a couple games of Scrabble, darling?”

Roger nodded and grabbed his tea before he lit another cigarette. “Yeah, sure, Freddie. I’m up for that.”

“Excellent, I’ll get the board set up.” Freddie grabbed the box and started to set everything up.

Brian grabbed his tea, sitting down next to John as Roger sat down on the other side of the guitarist so they were all sitting in a square. He waved away the cigarette smoke. “That’s your last one for a few hours, Rog. I’ve been inhaling it since we picked you up.”

“Oh come on,” Roger groaned playfully. “I haven’t been allowed to smoke for a whole week! Do you realize how crazy I’ve been doing in there?”

“Oh yes, Rog,” Brian teased. “I’m _sure_ you haven’t snuck any smokes the entire time you’ve been inside there. Like you weren’t secretly smoking when I came to pick you up earlier?”

John and Freddie both chuckled.

“Okay, fine,” Roger smirked. “You caught me. I’ve had a few on the inside.”

“On the inside?” Freddie questioned, laughing. “Were you in the hospital or were you in prison?”

Roger shrugged. “What’s the difference?” It was a rhetorical question and Brian looked over at Freddie before making a cut sign in front of his neck to get him to stop talking about the subject.

“Oh, darling,” Freddie recovered. “I believe you go first, E comes before F.”

“Oh, right,” Roger moved his letters around before he created a word and watched as Brian wrote down the points.

The atmosphere cleared again and the tension disappeared as the men casually laughed about the words Freddie came up with and occasionally gawked at Roger with impressed eyes at a few of the extensive words he came up with as they played for the next two hours, going through three cups of tea.

“So are we going to sit inside all day like old grannies or are we going to have some fun?” Roger asked finally after their games were done and the sun had started to set.

Freddie and John exchanged unsure looks with Brian before the latter looked over at Roger. “You’ve had a long week. I thought maybe we’d stay in tonight.”

“What, and play Scrabble all night?”

“We can do whatever you like, darling,” Freddie replied.

Roger stood up. “Well, I’d like to go out. Come or don’t come. It’s up to you, but now that I’m out of prison, I’d like to have a few pints.”

Brian chewed his lip nervously. He couldn’t keep Roger locked up here after he had been locked up at the hospital for a week. “All right,” he conceded. “Where’d you have in mind?”

Roger shrugged. “We could to the Golden Lion? It’s not too far from the flat; we could walk there.”

The older man searched Roger’s face carefully. “Let’s go to Whisky-A-Go-Go. It’s not as busy.” He saw Roger look at him with a disappointed look.

“Isn’t that a straight club, Bri?” He asked him carefully.

“Yeah, but you’re not going there for a date, Rog. You’re just going for drinks, yeah?”

The drummer was starting to look annoyed now but finally nodded. “Fine. We’ll go there. I’m going to go get changed.”

Brian watched as his friend disappeared into his room and then looked at John and Freddie who had surprised looks on their faces.

“Well that was easy,” John remarked.

Brian shook his head. “It was easy because Roger’s going to leave the club to go to the one he wants to go to, because that’s what he does,” he sighed before he brought his voice to a low whisper. “Why does he want to go to the place where he saw David? He has to know how that’s going to go.”

“Maybe he wants to see that bastard?” Freddie asked.

“I think he still believes that he deserves whatever he gets. He’s being self-destructive again.” Brian took a deep breath before exhaling.

“So what should we do? Make him stay at the Whisky-A-Go-Go?”

“No,” Brian shook his head. “You two stay there but I’m going to follow Roger, just in case.”

Freddie looked disapprovingly at this new plan. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Brian? Shouldn’t John and I come along too, in case something happens? With Roger’s record, it’s very possible that this could go tits up, darling.”

“Don’t worry, Freddie. I’ll watch him and I can handle David if I need to. Just enjoy yourselves, really. We’ll meet you back home when you’re ready.”

John looked at Freddie before the two of them nodded just as Roger came back out, dressed up and ready to go. Brian grabbed his van keys and led them all outside and they piled into the vehicle before they headed towards the straight club, Roger lighting up another cigarette.

**………….. ….. …………….**

Roger, Freddie and John were about three drinks, and ten songs in at the Whisky-A-Go-Go club when Brian noticed the drummer heading towards the exit. He placed his hands casually on the backs of the other two band members to let them know that he was leaving now and followed Roger out of the club and watched him take a cab.

He quickly got a cab as well and told the driver to follow the first cab. When they pulled up to the Golden Lion, Brian nonchalantly followed his friend inside, making sure that he always had his eye on him. He saw Roger light up again and make his way towards the dance floor. Brian found a booth and slid inside of it, watching his friend smoke and dance before seeing a figure move towards Roger and tap him on the shoulder.

He tensed up, knowing that it was David as the lights hit them both. He saw Roger talk to him for a few minutes before the drummer then started to follow David towards the toilets. Brian got up and followed them, making his way through the crowd of people.

He was outside the door when he heard screaming come from within but heard Roger’s angry voice instead of the one he had anticipated hearing.

“You fucking tosser! You think you could use me like you did, _humiliate_ me?” Another scream from David. “Shut up! The pain you’re feeling is nowhere close to the pain that I felt when you raped me, you sick arsehole!”

Brian entered now just in time to see Roger punch David hard, making him fall back. He saw that Roger no longer had his cigarette, and there was a burn on the other man’s arm. He felt sick. The drummer apparently hadn’t heard Brian come in, though because he swung his arm back again to hit him when the guitarist suddenly grabbed his wrist quickly.

Roger looked over at him with wide eyes, in shock to see Brian right there before him. “W-What the hell are you doing? Did you follow me here?”

The taller man wet his lips before he shook his head. “Don’t do it, Rog. Don’t…”

Roger looked at his friend now, mouth agape in disbelief. “Are you joking? You know he deserves it! He deserves worse! You _know_ he does!”

Brian glanced over at David who was bleeding from his nose, obviously having broken it by Roger’s fist. He looked over at Roger again. “You’ve done enough to him! Come on, we’re leaving.”

He didn’t wait for his approval before he pulled Roger out of the bathroom and led him outside in the fresh air as it started to sprinkle. Roger pushed him away.

“What the fuck, Bri? He raped me and you’re defending him! Are you on his side now?”

Brian turned around to look at him and shook his head. “No! Of course I’m not on his side, Rog. What do you really hope to accomplish from this, though?”

“Satisfaction! Karma!”

Brian shook his head, walking closer to him. “I know he hurt you. He hurt you bad and what he did was beyond fucked, but if you hurt him, or worse, than you’re no better than him,” he said matter-of-factly. “You can beat him up until _he’s_ half deaf but it just means that he won, because you showed that he got to you.”

This made Roger stop and think, realizing that Brian might be right. He swallowed hard and ran his hands through his hair. “I just… I just wanted him to feel what I felt, all those nights…”

“I know,” Brian placed a gentle hand on the drummer’s shoulder. “You still hurt him enough that it’ll make others think twice before hooking up with him, at least for several days. You’ll have warned others of him.”

“Until he heals,” Roger scoffed, shaking his head.

“You still helped other people, for a few days, and sometimes that’s all you can do. If… the police were different, if times were different, then… we’d see justice done, but… that’s just not the world we live in right now, mate.”

Roger looked reluctant before he examined his bloody knuckles and looked away, taking another deep breath. “W-Where are the others?”

“Either still at the club, or they’re at home. Come on, let’s go back to the flat; we should take care of those cuts before they get infected.”

Roger nodded before the two of them piled into a cab together, taking it home. Brian was almost glad that Freddie and John were still at the club. The two men deserved to enjoy themselves for one night and anyway, he wanted to be alone with Roger.

“Have a seat on my bed in my room. I’ll go get the stuff,” he headed down the hall while Roger walked into his room and sat down, looking down at his knuckles.

Brian entered the room a few minutes later with disinfectant and bandages in tow and sat down across from him before he started to take care of Roger’s hand.

“I’m proud of you,” he said quietly.

This surprised the drummer and he looked up at him. “Really? What for?”

“You could’ve done a lot worse to him, Rog. I know you wanted to, but you didn’t.” Brian started rubbing the disinfectant cream on the cuts on his knuckles.

“I might’ve done worse if you hadn’t shown up. I-I don’t know what I would’ve done,” Roger sighed, watching him. “How did you know I was going to the other club?”

Brian shrugged. “I know you. Plus, you gave in too easily earlier. I knew you were planning on sneaking off.”

“I’m sorry,” Roger said now. “I just... wanted revenge, I guess.”

“Was it worth it?” The guitarist started wrapping his upper hand in gauze but kept it loose enough where Roger could still easily move it.

The blonde thought for a minute and he nodded. “It was. F-For three months, I just… laid there and took it, and… I couldn’t fight back. I’m used to fighting, you know? But, with him, he fought back harder, put me in my place. I was afraid to fight back, so… I didn’t. Punching him though, and putting that cigarette out on his arm felt… freeing. I don’t regret what I did, and I’d do it again if given the chance.”

Brian nodded, unable to help himself from laughing softly, leaning back to look at the other man. “You got him pretty good. I don’t like that you did it behind my back like that, but I’m glad you feel better now and you got it out of your system.”

Roger nodded and then stood up before he started to get changed into pajamas. “Yeah.”

Brian also stood up, and set the medical supplies on the table for now before he looked over at his friend. “It’s done though. It’s over now, Rog. No more looking for him, no more fighting. Okay? No more secrets.”

Roger looked over at him and nodded again, giving a weak smile. “All right.”

“Good.” Brian pulled back the comforter and got changed as well before he climbed inside, patting the bed.

Roger also got in and sighed in relief. “Mmm… a real bed.”

Brian laughed and ruffled up Roger’s hair playfully before he lay down. “I missed you, Rog.”

“I missed you too, Bri.”


	12. cues

**.     .      .**

  
“That sounded pretty good.”

“Pretty good and amazing are not the same, darling,” Freddie sighed, glancing over at John. “We could sound better.”

“We sound good enough, Freddie,” Brian let his guitar hang off of his body.

Roger tried to read everyone’s lips but with their bodies half turned, it was proving difficult to understand what exactly everyone was saying and only caught a word or two here and there.

_Sound better._

He bit his lip, having a feeling it was his fault. He spun his drumstick between his fingers until he saw John turn to face him. “We need to cue him right on the last note,” he said to everyone. “He keeps ending a second too early or a second too late.”

Roger felt slight frustration slithering inside of him. “Well it doesn’t help that Fred feels like he needs to dance around and then forgets to cue me off! Or he’s facing away and I can’t bloody see him!”

Freddie turned around to face Roger. “How am I supposed to know what you can hear and what you can’t? You still have eyes, dear, correct? Can you see when my lips stop moving?”

Roger stood up and threw his drumstick at the singer’s head now, a wave of anger crashing down. “Then you can play the sodding drums instead of me! I can’t see when your lips stop moving when you’re not even facing me! What part of that don’t you understand?”

Brian moved between Roger’s drum kit and Freddie and looked back and forth at them. “Okay, all right… come on. Let’s take five, shall we? I think we can all do with a break right now.”

“Fine with me!” Roger hit the cymbals with his hand hard before he grabbed his cigarettes and then headed outside, immediately lighting one after placing it between his lips.

Brian set his guitar down and followed the drummer out of the flat. “You’ll get this, Rog. We’ll keep working on it. John’s right; we just need to time you in or out at the right time.”

Roger took a drag and then exhaled through his nostrils. “I’m never going to get this, Bri. It’s a waste of time.”

Brian wrapped an arm around the blonde’s shoulders. “We’re almost there. We sound good enough where anyone else would think it’s on purpose. I think it sounds good.”

“Really?” Roger asked skeptically, searching his eyes. “If Freddie wasn’t such a bloody perfectionist –"

“Then we wouldn’t sound this good,” Brian finished for him, smirking. “We should be practicing this much to help get this done. We have a small gig at the Royal Albert Hall near the college tomorrow, and then we start another leg of our American tour. I think now’s the time to keep practicing.”

Roger sighed, nodding. He knew that Brian had a point but he was already feeling fried. He scratched at his temple before taking another drag. “Freddie’s known for making his odd gestures on stage; it makes sense if he’s the one who cues me on and off, right?”

Brian shrugged and gave a slight tilt of his head. “I don’t know. He can’t seem to remember when he should be doing it half the time. Like you said, he has his back to you most of the time and you can’t read his lips.”

“Yeah, but he’s the only one not holding an instrument. It makes the most sense!”

Brian wet his lips. “Yeah, but he’s still holding the mic. He doesn’t let it stand by itself. He always has it in his hand and it makes the most sense since he’s all over the stage more often than not. He’s still holding something.”

Roger took another drag before exhaling and putting the cigarette out and nodded. Another valid point. “This would just be easier for everyone if you got a new drummer.”

“Are you quitting on us, darling?” came a concerned voice now.

Roger looked over at the singer. “No, but it’d be easier if you got someone else! Someone who can actually hear.”

Brian gently rubbed the drummer’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Do you really think this new drummer will know all of our songs like you do, dear? We don’t have time to break them in, and anyway, you’re out of your mind if you believe that we’d ever actually replace you, Rog.”

The drummer couldn’t help but give a smirk now. Brian had told him before but it felt good to hear it coming from the lead singer of Queen himself. He took a deep breath and looked down at his hands.

“Look, darling,” Freddie spoke gently. “I apologize for our little row in there. Just tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll make an attempt to do it.”

Brian smiled thankfully at the singer.

Roger shrugged before he looked up at him. “Just… at the beginning, and the end, right before I’m supposed to end, can you do the cues?”

Freddie nodded now and grinned. “I promise I will certainly attempt to remember the cues for you, Rog. Now are you going to sit out and pout all evening or do I have to drag you back inside to practice some more?”

Roger chuckled and stood up. “I’m not as small as I was before anymore. I could probably take you in a fist fight now, Freddie.”

The singer was the one who was grinning now as the three of them started walking towards the flat again. “I’m sure you could, darling, but I don’t wish to find out.”

They walked back inside to see John already holding his bass again, ready to go but standing patiently and smiling warmly when they all walked back in.

“Everything all right, gentlemen?”

“Yes, dear, everything’s just fine,” Freddie smiled back at him and gave him a wink before he grabbed a pad and paper and crossed off something on it before he wrote something else and turned around so Roger could see his lips.

“Okay, so… I’d like to perform the same set list for the smaller gig near the college as for the tour since we won’t be back for a few weeks. Instead of starting off with ‘Liar,’ I think we should start with ‘Keep Yourself Alive,’ simply because it’s a faster paced song and it’ll sort of set the mood for the rest of the night. Does anyone have an issue with that?”

He glanced around and saw everyone shake their heads, okay with the idea.

“Excellent. So, we’ll start with ‘Keep Yourself Alive,’ and then go into ‘Liar,” then ‘Fat Bottomed Girls,’ and so on and so forth. I’ll pass a copy out to everyone so we can all be on the same page.”

Roger knew that he was only doing this because of him, but he felt grateful this time instead of embarrassed. It actually gave him an idea when to start and stop without having to rely on the cues so much. He saw John and Brian smile and give a nod and hum of agreement as well and relaxed.

The band practiced for about two hours in the flat. Freddie made sure to look at Roger at the beginning to do the cue for him to start, and then turned around quickly at the end to cue the drummer to stop. Once they had finished their last song, all of the men had sweat beading on their skin but they all looked happy.

“How do we feel about it?” Brian asked, glancing around at all of them, wanting to make sure they were all on the same page before they stopped practice for the night.

“I think it’s perfect,” Freddie smiled, nodding. “I love it.”

John and Brian both nodded as well, grinning. The guitarist looked over at Roger before the other two men did as well.

“Rog? Are you okay with it?”

Roger smiled weakly, shrugging. “I’m still off a little.”

“No one’s going to notice you being off by half a millisecond, darling,” Freddie assured. “From where I was standing anyway, you played perfectly, Rog.”

The drummer relaxed a bit and nodded. “A-All right. Then if you guys are okay with it, then I am too. Think we’re ready for tomorrow?”

“There’s not a doubt in my mind that we are,” Brian answered, putting his guitar down. “We should all get some sleep.”

“Right,” Freddie grabbed the pad and pen. “I’ll make up copies of the set list tonight for all of you, and you’ll time to look it over before tomorrow evening, and we should be good to go. Goodnight, darlings!”

“Night, Fred.”

“Goodnight.”

“See you in the morning, Freddie.”

They watched the singer rush off towards his room before the other men cleared the room of the instruments and said their goodnights to each other before also going to bed. Roger made a beeline for his own room instead of going to Brian’s, and got changed before he climbed into bed and let exhaustion take over.

It had only been a few hours though when he felt hands on him. He squirmed in his sheets, trying to get away from his invisible attacker, yelling before he struggled to stand up, looking around in the dark before he relaxed slightly, when he didn’t see anyone.

He leaned his head against the wall, running his hand through his hair in distress. He gathered up his blanket and then tiptoed to Brian’s room before he crept inside but stayed at the door.

“B-Bri? Can I… sleep here tonight?”

The guitarist rubbed his eyes before he nodded and opened up the comforter for the drummer to climb under beside him. “Of course. Come on, then, mate.”

Roger closed the door and climbed under the sheets eagerly before he got comfortable and it wasn’t long before he fell asleep again.

 

**………….. …. ……………………**

The next morning, Roger woke up but didn’t see Brian lying beside him. He sat up and looked around, remembering last night’s actions that made him decide to sleep back in here. He reluctantly got out of bed and headed to the kitchen to get coffee.

“Sleep okay?” Brian greeted him once the drummer sat down next to him at the kitchen table.

Roger took a shaky breath but nodded, taking a drink of his coffee and lit up a cigarette. He took a long drag from it.

“You’re awfully quiet. Want to talk about it?”

The man just shrugged and took another drag, leaning back against the chair.

Brian started to grow worried. Usually when he was this quiet, there was something wrong. He swallowed hard, watching his friend smoke silently. He leaned forward and scooted his chair closer to him.

“Talk to me, please? What are you thinking about?”

Roger was quiet still but anxiously chewed his lip. He finally looked up at Brian. “I-I… umm… I had a bad dream last night, back in my room.”

“What was it about?” The guitarist asked gently.

“It was about D-David. I felt him… touching me, scratching me. I thought I saw him in my room,” the younger man said quietly, looking down at his hands.

Brian tensed slightly. He knew it’d be impossible for David to have snuck in when they were all there in the flat, but maybe he had done it after Roger had hurt him and had somehow beat Brian and the drummer home.

_No, that would’ve been impossible too. The two of them would’ve seen him come out._

The thought of anyone sneaking into the house was terrible enough, but imagining David hurting Roger at night was worse. He stood up, needing to put his mind at ease and started towards his friend’s room. He heard him stand up as well, following him.

“Wait – where’re you going? Bri?”

“I just… need to make sure,” the taller man said, more to himself than to Roger. He walked inside and turned the light on and then opened the closet door, pushing the wardrobe aside as he looked inside and then closed the door.

Roger was regretting telling him about last night. He was feeling very much like a little boy who had told his father that there was a monster in his room and now he had to check out the room and let his son know that there were no monsters in his closet.

“I-It was just a dream, Brian…”

“I know,” he got on his hands and knees on the floor and then looked under the bed before he stood back home and turned to his uneasy band mate. “I just wanted to make sure. Sorry, Rog.”

The drummer shook his head, feeling better now that Brian had checked his room out, even if he did feel silly. He cleared his throat. “N-No, it’s… it’s fine. Thanks. I… I was worried too.”

Brian seemed to relax now, glad to know that he wasn’t the only one. He wrapped his arm around his friend and hugged him close, careful of his cigarette, before he let him go and smiled softly at him. “Well, all clear. You can sleep in my room whenever you want, you know. Like you used to before?”

Roger nodded and gave him a smile back. “Yeah, cheers. I think I will tonight.”

“Where the bloody hell is everyone?”

Roger chuckled at Freddie’s inquiry and let the guitarist out towards the kitchen and sat back in their seats to drink more of their coffee.

“Sorry, Bri was helping me find something,” the blonde half lied. “How’d you sleep, Freddie?”

The singer poured himself a cup of coffee. “I didn’t sleep! I was too excited about our gig today, darling!” He took an impressive drink before he looked over at them.

Roger chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s just a uni gig! I thought we were done with these small time gigs!”

“There is no gig too small,” Brian chimed in.

“Exactly,” Freddie agreed, smirking. “Anyway, this isn’t just students coming to this gig, Rog. It’s everyone! We might’ve played here when we were first starting out but it’s a sold out show this time. What are we doing to do today to kill time until the show later on?”

Brian laughed and shrugged. “Well, we could do with some groceries, I suppose.”

“Oh that’s so boring, Brian! We should go out somewhere!”

Roger shook his head. “No, thanks. I’d rather stay home before we have to head over. I’d like not to be shitfaced before playing. I have a hard enough time now, as it is.”

Freddie gave him a sympathetic smile. “Of course, dear. No one’s going to hold it against you if you don’t wish to come. Brian?”

The other man shook his head. “Hmm… I hate to say it but I agree with Rog on this one. It’s easy for you to drink and sing but it’s a bit harder for the rest of us to drink and play. You better show up at the gig later, though. That’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”

Freddie put his hands up. “Fair enough, darling. I’m just going to go out and have a few drinks and dance a little, but I promise I’ll meet you there at the Hall later at six. I’m going to go and get ready. Do you think John would like to come with me?”

Brian and Roger looked at each other before looking back at the singer.

“I doubt it, Fred. Just let him sleep.”

Freddie looked slightly disappointed but then skipped off to the bathroom to shower. Roger went back to his cigarette and Brian to his coffee, the two men sitting in a comfortable silence now until John walked in about an hour and a half later, after Freddie had left.

“Morning, John,” Brian greeted, looking up.

“Good morning, Deaky.”

John took his coffee over to the couch where the two men were now sitting, facing each other, and sat in between them. “Morning. Fred still sleeping?”

“No, he went out.”

John looked at Roger in surprise. “Out? Like… out, out?”

“Umm… yeah, like out clubbing apparently. He said that he’d meet us at the gig later.”

John now looked over at Brian. “Should we be worried? It’s pretty early to start drinking, isn’t it?”

“I think he wanted to mostly dance. He said he was only going to have a few drinks. Anyway, he’s pretty reliable, and he’s been looking forward to this gig for a while. He wouldn’t blow it by getting shitfaced beforehand.”

John nodded now and sipped his coffee again. The men discussed their gig they would have tonight, the cues, and then moved on to the gig they would have the next night, that would be much larger. They spent the morning and afternoon watching movies on television, playing a couple, laid back games of Scrabble with just the three of them, and before they knew it, the evening rolled around.

Roger felt butterflies in his stomach as he headed to the bathroom to shower and get ready, the other two taking turns and doing the same until they were all dressed.

“Oh, these must be the copies of the set list Freddie made for us last night,” John looked at three pieces of paper on the counter and passed them out before they packed their instruments up into the van and headed towards Royal Albert Hall near Imperial College.

“I can’t believe that arsehole made us do all the work while he’s off drinking and partying!” Roger said with fake annoyance.

“Ah, the life of a rock star.”

“Yes, John. I wish we were also rock stars so we could experience this joy,” Brian teased, rolling his eyes as he drove. “Oh wait. I believe we are!”

The men made it to the venue and looked around but didn’t see Freddie anywhere.

“Come on, let’s set up and hope for the best,” Brian instructed.

The other two men looked apprehensive but nodded and set up the drum kit first, taking their time on purpose to give their lead singer more of it. Then they moved onto the amps and then John’s bass. It wasn’t until Brian was tuning his guitar when Freddie made a mad dash onto the stage.

“Finally!” Roger complained, setting his set list by him near the drum kit.

“So sorry, darlings! I got here as soon as I could. I promise I’m completely here now and ready! Did everything go all right?”

“Oh, you mean by hauling everything from home into the van and then setting up here all by ourselves?” Roger groaned. “An extra hand would have been pretty helpful!”

Brian sighed and looked out as people filed into the building and looked back at Roger with soft eyes. “Take a breath, Rog. Come on, we’re almost on. Try and have fun.”

Roger nodded now and got behind his drum kit, warming up on the cymbals with his sticks and took a deep breath, feeling nervous. He looked over at Brian who gave him a reassuring look and then saw John give him a thumbs up, and that made him feel a little better.

He looked to his front and saw Freddie take the mic out of the stand before he looked over at Roger and playfully winked at him, smiling excitedly. Roger couldn’t help but chuckle, watching Freddie watch him. About twenty minutes later, he saw Freddie give him a quick cue to start but he took this cue as Brian’s opening and counted five seconds before he started drumming.

They were drenched in sweat under the hot neon lights above them several songs in when they were finishing up their most popular, ‘Bohemian Rhapsody,’  and saw Freddie’s cue to stop so Freddie could go to the piano. When Roger looked over at Brian, he saw the guitarist smile at him. He relaxed and listened to Freddie finish the song, a roar of people screaming and cheering, a few even crying in the large crowd.

“Good night, all you lovely people! You’ve been absolutely fabulous to play for!”

Clapping and cheering followed so loud that Roger felt like he had gone completely deaf. Brian and John both waved at the crowd and smiled brightly before they band packed up their gear and headed back to the van.

Roger was glad to be out of that hot building and into the cool night air, able to hear partially again. The men all had adrenaline pumping through them until they piled into the van and started back home. Roger fell asleep against John, who was barely awake himself.

Brian looked over at Freddie. “That went well.”

The singer laughed softly, not wanting to wake the drummer. “That went amazing, darling. Did I do all right with Rog’s cues? I was worried a couple times he hadn’t seen me.”

Brian shook his head, cracking open the window a little to help keep himself awake as he drove them home. “No, I think you were perfect. I couldn’t even tell if he was off, if he even was. I think the cues worked great.”

“Lovely,” Freddie smiled.

Brian looked over and smiled. When they got home, they decided to leave their equipment in the van for now and helped John and Roger out through the front since the back part was blocked. Roger rubbed his eyes tiredly and headed inside the house before heading to Brian’s room.

He got changed into a spare pajama pants he had left in there a few months ago and pulled his shirt off to get more comfortable.

Brian walked in and closed the door quietly. “John went to bed but Freddie’s having another drink before he does. You all right, Rog?”

The drummer nodded and smiled tiredly. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just sleepy. Guess I’m not used to gigs yet. It’s been a while since we actually did them. So… I did okay?”

Brian got changed quickly and nodded. “Yeah, you did great, Rog. You were on time with every song. Did you see all of Freddie’s cues?”

Roger rubbed the back of his head before he got into the bed. “I think so. There was one time I wasn’t sure if I did or not, but I looked at the set list and I knew I had to start it.”

The older man gave a smile. “Good. That’s was smart thinking.”

“Well, that’s me. Smart,” Roger scoffed, shaking his head before placing his head on the pillow, wrapping the sheets around his body, relaxing when he felt his body relax into the bed. Having to sit upright all night made it that much better when he could lay down afterwards; he always looked forward to those nights.

Brian lay on his side, facing his friend. “You _are_ smart, Roger. You don’t always make smart choices but you’re smart when it matters, not to mention the bravest person I know.”

“To be fair, do you really know a lot of people, though?” Roger teased.

Brian chuckled and shook his head. “You know I do. Anyway, you were brave when you were stuck with that tosser, David. He basically put you through hell and you came through with flying colors. You were smart when you decided to finally leave him. You were smart when you listened to sense and walked away from hurting him in that club.”

“This is real nice, Bri. We should have these moments more often when you remind me how smart and brave I am.”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I.” Roger chuckled, smirking.

Brian messed up his hair and then wrapped his arm around him before the two of them fell asleep.


	13. we are the champions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This last chapter was a bit long, but I figured since it's the last chapter, it's all right and you guys wouldn't mind too much. 
> 
> thank you to everyone who commented and stuck with me through this fic. Your comments and kudos meant a lot <3

**.     .     .**

It was the day of the final gig in England before they would fly back to the US for the first leg of their other American tour. They’d be playing at Hammersmith Odeon that held about 5,000 people and this concert was completely sold out. The thought of this gave Roger butterflies once again. He didn’t know why but he felt even more nervous playing tonight than he had before.

This was the first huge venue they’d play since he became half deaf and would have to be mostly reliant on cues. He tried to remind himself that being unilaterally deaf didn’t define him, didn’t define who he was as person and how it definitely shouldn’t limit him as a drummer, but he felt like it did on all accounts; he couldn’t deny that he was the same person as before and did things the same, because he simply didn’t.

He ran a hand through his hair and then reached over and lit a cigarette, the first of the day in an attempt to try and calm his stomach. He heard movement beside him and saw Brian rubbing his eyes and looking over at his friend.

“Are you okay…?”

“Yeah,” Roger answered, taking a drag. “Just… a bit nervous about tonight is all.”

Brian sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes sleepily to try and wake himself up more before looking at the drummer. He gave him a small smile. “No worries, Rog. You’ll do great again, just like last night.”

“Last night was… nothing. It was small. I mean, I was nervous about last night too but this is the first big gig since…” he trailed off, stopping himself from speaking the words.

Brian nodded in complete understanding and moved closer to him. “We’re all going to be there with you up on stage, mate. Freddie will do the cues, just like last night, and it’ll go great.”

Roger nodded, wanting to believe him. He didn’t want to mess up and he was afraid he might. He took another drag before exhaling considerately away from the guitarist. “C-Can we practice today, before we leave?”

Brian nodded once. “If that’s what you want to do, we can. There’s no point though.”

The blonde tensed a little and looked at him, his brows knitted in worry of his friend’s answer already. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “Because you’re still going to be great, Rog. Anyway, _if_ you accidentally play too late or start too early, no one’s going to notice. If it happens, then the rest of us will cover it up so everyone else in the place thinks it was on purpose. Don’t worry, mate. We got your back, yeah?”

This made Roger relax finally and he smiled gratefully, taking another drag before he put the cigarette out, nodding in understanding.

“Good, come on; I’m sure the others are up by now. We slept in this morning.”

Roger led them out of the bedroom and out to the kitchen before grabbing a cup of coffee alongside Brian and sat down on the couch where John and Freddie both already were, still in their pajamas but also drinking coffee.

The others made room for the two men but they were all leaning against each other casually on the couch.

“Excited about tonight, Freddie?” Roger asked the singer.

He looked over at him and smiled warmly. “Of course I am, darling. It’s our last gig in the motherland before we head across the pond. Are _you_ excited, Rog?”

The drummer nodded, smirking. “Yeah, I am.”

“Good. How about you two?” Freddie asked John and Brian.

The bassist gave a nod before sipping his coffee and Brian looked carefully at the singer. “Yeah, only if you plan to actually be there on time tonight. Are you planning on doing some more clubbing today?”

“Yeah,” Roger agreed. “It’d be nice not to have to load and unload our equipment each time. By the way, we’re famous now! Why the hell do we even have to do it ourselves? Aren’t we paying people for that now?”

Freddie gave a small laugh. “I’ve actually told those nice gentlemen their services were no longer required and that we are perfectly capable of doing it ourselves, dear. I think it’s absolutely ridiculous we need anyone to help us with our gear when we can move it ourselves for free! You _do_ have two arms, don’t you, Roger?”

John was looking like he was trying to keep in a chuckle and took a long sip of coffee.

“You’re joking!” Roger exclaimed now in disbelief but there was no anger to his tone. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Really? I can,” Brian shrugged, shaking his head. “So _are_ you going to be there tonight on time? Or shall we start without you?”

Freddie sighed dramatically. “Yes, darling. I’ll be riding there with you tonight. No more clubbing, I promise. At least not until we get to New York. I do believe after our show tonight, however, we should get drinks to celebrate!”

“Celebrate what, exactly, Freddie?” Roger asked, drinking his coffee.

“Well, our last night before a huge tour, being among friends and thereby family, having Roger here and safe with us, everyone else is safe as well… what _isn’t_ there to celebrate, darling?”

Roger smiled now and saw the other two men do the same. There were times when he butt heads with Freddie, almost seeing red with the singer sometimes, but most of the time, Freddie made him feel at home, welcome, and loved. He knew even though they argued, there was no doubt that Freddie would stand up for him and fight for him at the end of the day, just as Roger would do for the man as well.

“We can go out for drinks after,” Brian nodded in agreement now.

“Wonderful.”

The men drank multiple cups of coffee until Brian spoke up again when he received a look from Roger around lunch time.

“I think we should practice some, just to make sure we have everything down and we feel confident about things.”

Freddie gave him a curious look but nodded and smiled. “Of course, dear. We can practice a bit. I actually think that’s a lovely idea. Deaky, are you all right with practicing a little right now?”

The bassist stood up now, placing empty cup on the table and nodded. “Yeah, sure. We have to get the equipment from the van though.”

“Oh, yes. That’s right; I’ll help you this time, of course.” Freddie and John headed outside to start bringing the instruments inside.

Brian gave Roger a smile and the drummer looked relieved.

“Thanks for that. I was worried about having to ask him,” he admitted hesitantly.

Brian chuckled and smirked. “You really think the one person who would want us to practice all day, every day if we could, would pass up the chance to practice right now for a few hours? If you think that, then you don’t know Fred at all anymore.”

The drummer snickered and nodded. “Yeah, well… I guess I need to catch up now with all that time I wasted before when I wasn’t here.”

Brian clapped a hand on Roger’s back and gently pushed him outside to help them carry everything in. Once they had made a couple trips and gotten set up, Roger sat behind his drum kit and warmed up his wrists a little bit, waiting for Brian and John to put on their guitars.

“Same songs as last night, then?” Brian asked the singer.

“Yes, I think that’d be easiest for Rog, than to make up another whole set list. Is that all right with you, dear?”

Brian nodded and looked over at John before he did the same, shrugging easily. Roger grabbed his drumsticks and then waited for Freddie’s start cue before he nodded and looked over at Brian to start his into to ‘Keep Yourself Alive’ and then began his as John started as well.

They practiced for three hours, taking short breaks in between to smoke, or have some tea, or just talk and relax so it didn’t seem so strenuous and like actual work. Each time, Freddie cued on time for the drummer and by the end, Roger felt confident about playing in a couple hours in front of massive amounts of people.

“I have dibs on the shower, darlings,” Freddie announced before he made a dash for the bathroom.

Roger sighed and shook his head. “Of course, so now we’re stuck with loading our shit back up again. Wonderful.”

Brian also felt a bit annoyed but he wasn’t surprised. “Come on, then. If we can load up now, we’ll have more time to get ready.”

This seemed to help Roger get some initiative to do so and the blonde and John both helped Brian load everything back up. After they had all taken showers and gotten changed into their flashier clothes, they piled into the van once again, and started towards the music venue.

 

**………………….. … ………………………..**

They had made it through four songs successfully but Roger saw Freddie facing the crowd and heard muffling talking from him. He couldn’t block out the crowd’s cheers and screams though, so he couldn’t hear what the singer was saying. Freddie’s back was facing him as well, of course.

He looked over at Brian in confusion, having a feeling that Freddie was now doing his own thing and going off the set list. He rarely did anything like this but probably because this was the last gig in England for a while, the singer wanted to make it special. The guitarist looked conflicted at first, and ran over to the drummer and leaned into his good ear before speaking just loud enough so he could hear him.

“We’re doing ‘March of the Black Queen’ now and then ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ right after so no breaks in between. Just go straight into it,” the guitarist instructed.

Roger nodded now and looked at him, giving him a thumbs up before the man gave him one back and quickly went back to his place on stage. He breathed a sigh of relief, letting the panic escape again as quickly as it had come.

Roger noticed that Freddie had also stopped doing the cues as he got more into dancing and singing with the audience. He couldn’t help but let irritation seep into his veins when he noticed this and wiped the sweat from his forehead as soon as they had finished ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’ He relaxed now when he saw the singer start the ‘Ay-Oh’ that he loved so much to do with the audience; Roger was exhausted after playing two long songs, back to back.

He took a drink of water from nearby and then saw Freddie talking again. He looked back at Brian, who seemed to know that Freddie wasn’t going to bother to cue him again, and then watched as the guitarist put up five fingers. This threw Roger off at first, unsure what that meant until he looked down at the set list and then saw Brian nod.

Of course; it meant they were going back to the set list again and about to play the fifth song on there: ‘Killer Queen.’

Freddie stuck to the rest of the set list until the concert was over and they were cheered off stage, loading their equipment back into the van. After they had finished, Roger couldn’t stop himself any longer and turned on Freddie, glaring at him.

“What the hell, Freddie? What happened to my cues?”

Freddie seemed both surprised and bored with Roger’s outburst. “Darling, why are you getting so upset? You did fine! You figured it out without the cues!”

Roger shook his head in frustration, clenching his jaw. “Yeah, thanks to Bri! If it wasn’t for him telling me where the fuck you were at and what you were doing next, I would’ve royally screwed it up for all of us!”

“I seriously doubt that, dear,” Freddie started towards the passenger seat when he felt himself be pulled back roughly.

“Fuck you, Freddie! Did you forget that you have a useless, half-deaf drummer playing for you now?! A little help would’ve been appreciated! Are you embarrassed? Is that it?” Roger took a few threatening steps now towards the singer.

Brian was taken back by Roger’s hostility but was even more taken back by the self-destructive comment about himself when he tried to jab Fred. It had depleted his own frustration towards the drummer for yelling at him.

He gently pulled Roger away from the other two before looking at them. “Go ahead and get in, guys. We’ll just be a minute.”

John looked worried but he got into the back of the van while Freddie got into the front. Brian gave his friend a concerned look. “You know you’re not useless, Rog. Right? Just because you’re partially deaf doesn’t make you any less of a person, or a drummer.”

Roger shook his head but still looked furious. “Whatever.”

 He was about to turn to leave when Brian put his arm out and kept him there. “It’s not ‘whatever.’ I’m serious, mate. You’re not useless, and I’m glad you’re with us still.”

“Fine, that’s great, Bri, but that doesn’t fix what Freddie did! He put the gig at risk with what he did and if I had screwed up, then he would’ve blamed me for it!”

Brian searched his friend’s angry face before he looked at Roger with slight amusement. “Rog, you know how Freddie gets when he’s up on stage. He gets in the moment and he forgets. He does this all the time. This is just the first time that he’s done it with cues.”

“Unbelievable! You’re standing up for the prick!” Roger yelled in disbelief.

“No,” Brian sighed, shaking his head. “I admit what he did was stupid, even after he promised to do the cues for you, and I’m a bit miffed at him for that, but the point is, that I was able to help you through it and you got through it, yeah? We worked together, just like we always do up there. I agree we need a slightly better system for it, but I’m sure John’s researched enough where he can help you there. I agree Fred’s a prick, but you already knew that the moment we agreed that he’d be our new singer.”

Roger thought about Brian’s words and relaxed slightly, nodding. He knew that Brian had a good point, but he still felt like he wanted to knock Freddie’s head off. He ran a hand through his hair before he lit a cigarette and took a long drag, feeling a bit better now.

“Good?”

Roger shrugged but nodded.

“All right. I want to see you two hug and make up by the end of the night. Now let’s go out for drinks and have a good time, okay?” When Roger nodded again, Brian patted him on the shoulder and let him go into the back with John while he went up front in the driver’s seat.

John gave Roger a smile when he entered and the drummer gave a weak one back to let him know things were okay.

Brian started the engine but didn’t leave the parking lot. He glanced at Freddie before looking back at the others. “All right, voting time. Straight or gay bar?”

“Gay,” Freddie and Roger both said in unison. This caused everyone to look at Roger in surprise.

“What?” Roger asked innocently. “Just because I have one bad experience doesn’t mean I don’t want to have sex ever again. I’m deaf, not dead.”

No one decided to bring up Roger’s suicide attempt.

“All right,” Brian nodded once. “Which means, two against two.”

“That’s not right, darling,” Freddie objected. “I’m the singer! My vote counts double, so it’s four to two!”

John and Roger both chuckled now, the drummer’s anger towards Freddie set aside for now. Brian was looking at Freddie with utter exhaustion on his face. “That’s the stupidest rule I ever heard of in my entire life. We’re not playing by those rules.”

Freddie let out a sigh. “Then I suppose you have a tie on your hands, don’t you, darling? How shall we settle it? Rocks, paper, scissors? Russian roulette perhaps?”

John bit his lip now and looked at Brian with a smirk on his face. “I’m willing to go to a gay bar for them if they want to go…”

Brian grinned in playful disbelief, already knowing the words that were going to come out of the singer’s mouth before they did.

“Outvoted!” Freddie clapped his hands in excitement. “Three against one!”

Brian chuckled now and nodded. “Yes it is. Well… I suppose we’re all going to a gay bar for drinks tonight. Freddie, know any good ones, and by good I mean safe.”

Freddie thought for a moment. “Oh! Let’s go to the Toucan! It’s about half an hour away but they don’t close until four in the morning, and drinks are on me.”

“Right, well… you’re going to have to direct me, then, Freddie.” Brian pulled out of the parking lot and started to follow the male’s directions.

Once they got there, they parked and were greeted by thunderous music pounding from inside and a line of people standing outside waiting to get in. When the doorman saw the whole band of Queen walking towards him, he instantly stepped aside and let them in, surprised to see them all there, but also very pleased.

“At least it’s dark inside,” John commented, grateful that not many people would be able to recognize them once they were inside the club.

Brian made sure Roger walked inside before him so he could keep an eye on the drummer as they walked in and moved towards the bar. As they grabbed pints and found a booth, Brian noticed that Roger looked slightly uneasy. Even though it was dark, he could see that the blonde’s eyes were darting around cautiously, even after he lit up a cigarette to help relax.

Roger looked like he was in his natural environment with a pint of lager and a cigarette between his lips, taking drags between sips. His friend’s paranoia spread to him a few minutes later and he also started looking around the room, putting an arm up on the back part of the booth behind Roger.

Freddie immediately finished his first drink quickly before he went off to go dance, but had told them that a tab was open in his name and to order as many as they wanted. Brian looked over at Roger.

“You can go dancing too, if you like,” he leaned in to where Roger’s good ear was facing him when he spoke.

The drummer had leaned in to hear him and he shrugged but in reality, he sort of did want to go dancing, probably not with Freddie though. He felt apprehensive since the last time he had went dancing, he had ran into David.

He knew that his other two band mates didn’t care much for dancing so he didn’t bother to ask them to dance. He took several more quiet drags off his cigarette before he put it out and finished off his beer before standing up. “I’m going to go get another one. Do you two want some more?”

John nodded, “Please.”

Brian shook his head and chuckled. “I’m driving, Rog.”

“Oh yeah, right. Sorry.” He made his way through the crowd towards the bar and Brian watched him the whole time but felt John’s eyes on him.

“Do you think David would be here?” The bassist asked him curiously once he figured out what Brian was doing.

Brian shrugged, glancing over at him before looking back at their friend. “Who’s to say he wouldn’t be? He’s a fucking stalker, Deaky. It’s what stalkers do, and after what he did to him at the other bar, I wouldn’t be surprised in the least if David wanted revenge.”

John bit his lip a bit nervously but both men were relieved when Roger came back with two pints, setting one in front of the bassist. “Cheers.”

Roger smiled and sat back down beside Brian, taking a long drink of his beer and looking more relaxed now. He started looking out into the sea of bodies to see if he could spot Freddie, but didn’t see him.

Brian leaned in to Roger. “How’re you doing, Rog?”

The drummer nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. You sure you don’t want a drink, mate? Might help loosen you up a little.”

Brian shook his head. “No, thanks. Have you seen anyone you know yet?” He saw Roger turn to look at him with a careful look on his face.

“No, I haven’t seen him,” Roger said knowingly. “Or… the other guy either. Maybe this club is too far away for them?”

“Hopefully, but usually stalkers don’t give a shit about how long it takes to get there. Whenever you want to leave, let me know and we will. Freddie will be fine here but we can take John and go back to the flat, okay?”

Roger nodded, unable to help feeling appreciative to have been given an out. He gave the guitarist a grateful smile. “All right. I’m okay for now, though, Bri. Really.”

“Okay, just saying.”

The men talked and John and Roger went through a few more pints while Brian watched them and kept an eye out before the blonde stood up after finishing another cigarette and leaned in to talk to his friends over the music.

“I’m going to go dance a little! Deaky, want to come with me?”

John looked over at Brian who nodded encouragingly. “Go if you want, John. I’ll be fine here! Go and keep Rog out of trouble for me,” he gave a wink.

John gave a slight smirk, knowing what Brian really wanted him to do and nodded. “All right, then. You win, Rog. Let’s go dance.” He stood up and closely followed Roger through the crowd.

The deeper they got onto the floor, Roger grew more and more uneasy but let himself let loose anyway as he started to sway his body to the music, John laughing as he watched his friend but mimicked the drummer’s moves as well.

They danced together to three songs when Roger saw a familiar mop of dark walk over to them slowly. He moved in close to John and leaned into his ear. “David’s coming. Pretend to be my date,” he pleaded, his voice shaking a little.

John nodded and awkwardly wrapped an arm around Roger’s shoulders, leaning against him intimately, hoping he didn’t look _too_ awkward right now.

David had a bandage over his nose where Roger had broken it but the other man didn’t look upset. Instead, he walked towards them closer before he spoke.

“Roger, it’s so good to see you again!” His voice was overly friendly, excited even. “Why don’t we go talk somewhere a bit more private, love?”

Roger wrapped an arm around John now, pulling him close. “Thanks, but I’m good. I’ve found someone else, David.” He forced his voice to stay steady.

David glared at him slightly before Roger saw the man’s jaw set tightly. He swallowed hard, caught between being afraid and furious. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was feeling right now. He didn’t want revenge anymore, though. He felt like he had gotten it when he had broken David’s nose. He hated that he felt anxious and scared all over again.

“Yeah,” John agreed suddenly. “Piss off, mate!”

The drummer was surprised at John’s sudden remark and fought the urge to burst out laughing at how uncharacteristic it was of him, but it was David’s next words that stopped him from doing so.

“He’s a bit young for you, isn’t he, Roger? Sure you wouldn’t prefer a man and not a boy?”

Roger let his arm drop now and got between John and David, suddenly feeling like he had to stand up for John. “Oh yeah, because it takes a real man to beat another down and deafen him, doesn’t it?”

David looked thoughtful before he shook his head. “That was an accident, Roger! You know it was! Come on… we could have fun again. I’m sure there are many dark corners around here we can hide in.”

It was now when Roger stepped back and put his arm around John again. “Sorry, I’m tired of you. Get over it, and by the way, stop stalking me or I’m going to stalk _you_ and me and my mates are going to break your arms so you can’t hurt anyone else! And if I see you hurt someone else in one of these clubs you keep popping up in, I’m going to smash your skull.”

The threat appeared to make David take a step back now before he scoffed. “You’ll come back, Roger. You always come back. No one else will want you! You’re broken goods!”

“I want him,” John spoke up now.

David flipped them off. “Whatever. Have a nice life, Roger. Come back when you want a real man.”

“Didn’t we already go over this? I’m having déjà vu.” The drummer guided John away from David and back towards the table.

Brian had been watching the scene unfold, only having been able to see the three of them whenever the sea of people parted towards one side but by the looks on their faces, he could tell that things were getting tense. He had been surprised, however, to see John wrap an intimate arm around Roger and then watched as the latter did the same to the former. He had to fight hard to keep himself planted at the table but felt relief when he saw them coming back again.

He looked at them expectantly.

“I’d like to leave now, please,” Roger said surprisingly calmly when he got back to the table, even giving Brian a small smile. “I’m wiped.”

“All right,” Brian agreed automatically, standing up.

John finished the drink he had left at the table. “What about Freddie?”

“He’ll be all right. He’d stay here anyway even if we left at closing time. He knows to meet us at home if he can’t find us here.”

John nodded and the three men climbed into the van, John catching Roger when the drummer lost his balance slightly and was about to trip and fall. Brian started to drive them home.

“What happened, Rog?”

He met Brian’s eye in the rearview mirror. “I umm… I saw David, and I told Deaky to pretend to be my date, and he did a great job at it.”

John laughed to himself, smiling. “I did my best for a straight man.”

Brian chuckled a little too but he still had questions. He rotated from watching the road to watching Roger. “What did he say to you?”

“The usual. He told me I should get back with him. He berated me for being with John, told me I should be with a ‘real man.’ It was a bunch of bollocks to be honest. Fucking tosser.”

Brian smiled to himself now, feeling proud of Roger for standing his ground without using his fists this time. He pulled into the driveway and turned around to look at the two men. “You both did well. It’s good you had each other’s backs. That was a good idea, Rog.”

The drummer felt heat rise to his cheeks before he rolled his eyes. “Okay, as sweet as this moment is, I have to get out of this van before I vomit, and I drank a decent amount tonight so it’s going to be a lot.” He opened the door before Brian could object and headed inside.

“He just can’t take a compliment,” John smirked at Brian.

The guitarist smiled and laughed. “That’s our Roger. Thanks for keeping an eye on him, John. I appreciate what you did.”

The bassist shrugged. “It was nothing.”

“From where I was sitting, it looked like a lot. I feel good knowing that you have his back when I don’t.”

John smiled and nodded. “Well, you’re welcome, Brian.”

The two men headed inside the flat, turning on lights and John said his good nights before heading to bed, leaving Brian and Roger to themselves.

They watched television for a while on the couch, Roger chain smoking casually as Brian waved his hand occasionally to waft the smoke away until the drummer finally put the cigarette out and leaned against Brian’s body.

“Tired?”

Roger rubbed his eyes before he shook his head weakly. “Hm? No, I’m fine.” Not five minutes later, though, the older man felt Roger’s breathing even out and saw that he was asleep.

He didn’t want to disturb him so he grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and tossed it over the two of them before laying back a bit more and fell asleep as well, wrapping a long arm around his friend.

It had been a long day, but he wouldn’t have traded anything in the world for it because it meant that he had been able to go home with his best friends and fell asleep on the couch with one of them as well. It felt so natural, so perfect. He couldn’t imagine his life any other way, and the best part was that he’d get to do this as long as he wanted.

After all, it’s Queen.


End file.
